Oh war. Who started it? Why was this begun?
Oh dearest creation. You are the one I will believe and trust for all times. I will share my secrets – old and new – pure ones and dark ones. I do say it now. Be still – just still. Yes, I do say to all wise ones that I know you are waiting for me to say I have sinned against your laws. So you call me now.
I will stand up and whisper that this feels like an ending or a fresh beginning – a changing time for all who see the ruins – the mother who holds her small child and the father who stands by his family in tears. He stands calling out for his Creator. “Hear me, hear us now,” he calls out loud.
He stands and thinks of his father and mother – his own memories. He then cries out for Creator’s compassion. In his pain he calls out and angels are near and see all life and death. Rubble is strewn around. There are no houses giving comfort to all. Rubble lies like heaping memories of the past. Oh, mothers cry out, “Where will we be,” as the bombing planes fly over a city left in great pain.
A child cries out. Somewhere a mother or father cries out, “Oh, I am here” and they know not that angels are near. “Please Creator hear our cries. End this war.”