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War Was Left With Little Choice



(Photo via Free Extras)

The angry faces in the crowd shuffled their blistered feet in anticipation, I nodded and said that I loved them each and everyone, the sons and daughters of love. Their rigid faces quickly sagged with disappointment. (They were hoping for a fight.) Their breath, that of displeasure, plummeted through the ready air like a jumper left with little choice but to fly or fall away.


I asked them if they’d mind if I smiled upon their grimacing with joy, with a humble delight at their having come at all. I’m your brother. I’m you, you’re me, and we’re all love. They looked perplexed, the fight in them retreating, save for two holdouts who screamed and spit, You’re going to hell! and You’re crazy! Too late, the full and expectant silence melted their wrath from the moist air and the war in them was drenched in peace.


© 2011 by mark prime

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