Not Pieces, Peace

Peace isn’t,

The screeching of air-raid sirens from WW2,

Frantic prayers to god in the middle of confusion,

The dreaded silence after the bombs have fallen,

The rivers of blood staining our earth,

Fires of hatred burning through us,

Pained screams from the soldiers at the front,

Innocent people dropping one by one,

The plaques filled to the brim of people we once knew,

Peace is the happiness when my Grandpa taught me to row over the silent sea.

Izzy Crane

12 years old

Oxford Spires Academy