Dear readers, I send you a new poem about the Ukraine war, its spiritual implications. Also, some good news, my book Poems from Heartlands has been nominated for various awards and has won the Pinnacle Book Achievement Award. The following poem is from my upcoming new collection, Into the Light; hope you my beloved readers like it, Yours Fr. Con Buckley.
The Angel of Peace (written during the Ukraine War)
And angel came to my door tonight
Fair as a star, bright
And innocent as a child’s prayer,
With hair of gold and eyes of fire,
And wings as white as my window pane
On a snowy night, and his hands
Touched me soft as carded wool
On an Aran loom. “What brings you
To my door dear angel?”, I cried. He replied:
“I come alas, but with one word, doom,
It is coming as dark as the coldest winter night”.
As he said this I seemed to hear drums beating,
As in a forest far away, drums of war
Again in Europe. “And how can I avert
This gathering doom?”, I cried, “pray” he replied,
And believe again, stay close to the lord
And Mary, and pray, pray for peace, pray
Without cease day and night
That the light won’t be completely blotted out
And me, the angel of peace will finally triumph
Over the horrid demons of war, death and grief.
And in the eyes of one of the demons,
Who now appeared to me, I seemed to see
Streams of refugees and reams of broken homes,
And shattered cities and battered highways
To nowhere but blood and gore,
And floods of tanks and whines of missiles
I saw tearing the land apart. This can’t go on,
I said, let the angel of peace reign instead,
Enter men’s hearts, and still the guns
Of war forever, let him reign near and far
That our sons and daughters won’t
Have to enlist in some bloody cause of power
Or service of some brutal empire built by fire
And by bloody slaughter of the innocent child.
Then sadly the angel faded before my eyes
And I cried salt tears at his demise,
For he was angel of God, sent
To make me peaceful and wise,
And gentle as the eternal skies.
Why again and again in sin I cried do people contrive
Endless wars against the will of the Lord’s own child? The crucified witness of a gentle Jesus meek and mild.