Where do you mothers
raise your darling daughters?
Surely not into some war?
Where do you fathers
send your loving sons?
Surely not to arms;
that ain’t right?
What piece of land
could anyone ever
take with them from here?
Can you tell?
What dove of peace
could anyone ever
see rising from a grave?
Can you tell?
It’s nothing but a hum;
the sky is sad and gray,
and suddenly, for some love,
I must pray.
Love is the light
that asks us to pray.
Love is the light
of every day.
Love is the dawn,
love is the heart,
love is the light
of every day.
AK 4.4.26


