What is… peace?

Well, to start off with, it’s a homonym,
and it doesn’t mean the same thing as “piece,”
like a “piece” of cake or a “piece” of my mind--
it’d be “the peace,” like “the peace” of cake or “the peace” of my mind,
which I suppose makes a little sense.

No, peace is a little different than that.
When you think of peace, you may think
of world peace or peace on earth or peace amongst people,
things Ms. America might say.
Or maybe even “peace be unto you,” or “peace be with you” or “peace, bro.”

Or you could even think of “find your own peace,”
or “have some peace of mind,” or even just “Ohmmmmm.”

Is it just me, or is the word “peace” starting to sound a little weird?

Well, either way, what do those pieces of peace mean?
Because they must all be a piece of peace
if it’s been divided into so many meanings, right?

Like, you say world peace, and you may think
of little white kids holding hands with little black kids
while the Middle Eastern Christian is playing rugby with the Asian Muslim
and all of their parents are looking on lovingly
while they exchange recipes for different cultural dishes and
gardening tips to use in their spare time.

Or maybe you think of finding the peace for someone else,
watching their wrinkled brows uncrease and their lips smooth out
and upwards as their muscles slowly, achingly loosen bit by bit,
and their eyes close in a silent
“Yes.”

Yet maybe still you think elsewhere,
of the wide expanse inside your head stretching for miles,
clear fields or sloping beaches or growing skyscrapers
lazily filling space while stress and worry and anxiety cease to exist,
while the dreary drapes lift off your shoulders
and the morbid fog clears from your vision and you find…

Peace.
Peace.

Peace.

But somehow, even though you’ve caught it,
even though it’s in your grasp,
it’s flowing through the cracks in your fingers,
it’s escaping from you alone,
yet you chase after it anyway,
grabbing and snatching and reaching and stretching,
yet it only comes back once you’ve slowed down

and

breathed

Because the curious thing about peace
No matter how it comes to you
Under a rock
Through a stream
In your bed
Across a book
It finds its way to you,
Rather than you to it

So I urge you strongly
And it’s only a urge
To lay back
Or stand up
Or sit down
Or shout out
And let the pieces of peace
Whatever peace it is
To come
To you