In quiet dawns where soft winds sigh,
Beneath the hush of waking sky,
Peace drifts in like morning light,
Turning shadow into sight.
It walks not loud, nor proud, nor fast,
But finds its place when storms have passed,
A breath between the words of war,
A whisper through a closing door.
It lives in the hands unclenched, set free,
In hearts that choose not enmity,
In every step where hate could grow,
But mercy tells the soul to slow.
Peace is not merely still or calm,
It holds the wounded in its palm,
And says, “You too belong to grace,
There’s room for all in this wide space.”
So let it bloom where none expect—
In hardened soil, the lives we’ve wrecked.
May we, in time, find strength to cease,
And grow, through pain, the flower of peace.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie
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