Peace

Peace is not found in designed diversions,

losing reality behind a screen,

the escapist blue glow and

a closed bedroom door.

In halfhearted connections,

last night’s stranger, the one

who found refuge

on the empty side of your bed.

By masking a lifetime of wounds,

veiled behind habits and miserable evasion—no,

peace is not found in those

who are chronically immune.

In a dazed flat-back blow

to the barroom floor,

is peace found

in that fragile, fleeting numbness there?

Where is it hidden? So mysterious yet simple—

the peaceful respite where

life's oceans settle, brighten and clear?

In the gentle hope

a new sun brings, rising red dawn

through parted drapes.

In sunbeams settling on the face,

where the eyes that know, love and see her dwell,

In the calmest of certainty,

and in the relief of despair.

In snow-frosted drives up rising peaks,

warmed in knowing laughter and ardent melodies.

In a shared, knowing feeling,

during a song's brief, quieted interlude,

when eyes meet and linger, and she knows

that feeling of safety as yet withheld,

safely just being loved, just being herself—

there was her peace of heart found.