Peace. I sometimes wonder what it is, as if to say dictionaries make me wary of dictions. But think about it, what would you call peace and secondly how easy would it be for someone to waltz by and piss on that little piece of peace you’ve pieced together? How hard is it for you to weep?

I’ve seen little girls dance well to no music, and heard art painted with stories of pure pain. Its contrast so diverse we sigh loudly, as if to say peace is beyond our assimilating.

Yet we preach it loud in our little congregations; Peace, Peace, Peace, thus promise politicians. But they lost it back at Adam and wept till they were breast-fed. They say the truth is bitter, so they gave Him vinegar.

Say Peace is the lack of conflict, or war or infringement of freedom. We look for it in trophies that…