Wild-Peace - Yehuda Amichai

Not the peace of a cease-fire,

Not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb,

But rather

As in the heart when the excitement is over

And you can talk only about a great weariness.

I know that I know how to kill,

That makes me an adult.

And my son plays with a toy gun that knows

How to open and close its eyes and say Mama.

A peace

Without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares,

Without words, without

The thud of the heavy rubber stamp: let it be

Light, floating, like lazy white foam.

A little rest for the wounds—

Who speaks of healing?

(And the howl of the orphans is passed from one generation

To the next, as in a relay race:

The baton never falls.)

Let it come

Like wildflowers,

Suddenly, because the field

Must have it: wild peace.

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Yehuda Amichai (1924 - 2000) Israel

Source: Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies