Peace in Small Packages

 

We, the foreign objects

Of this temporary place,

Are forever sold to desire.

Our lives are forgotten when

Debtors capture the soul.

Today ransom isn’t an option,

For Freedom went away

With precious dignity,

And love stays ingrained.

We ask ourselves what remains,

Mostly memories

Desperate to be forgotten,

But in the end,

It’s better to feel,

Than not to feel at all.

 

Peace comes in small packages

And lasts just as long as needed.

And guess what... surprise, you’re different.

Reviews

[Writer CW Kirkland]

I liked this poem, and the flow was smooth. I like the message in this piece as well. The only suggestion I have is regarding the line "Ingrained somewhere." I felt the use of the word "somewhere" was too vague; I would suggest being more specific (i.e., ingrained in our hearts...or minds...or souls). Just a friendly suggestion. Overall, it was a great write. Thank you for sharing your creativity with the Cafe, and I look forward to reading more in the future.