The peace not past our understanding

The peace not past our understanding
falls like light upon the soft white tablecloth
at winter supper warm between four walls,
a thing too simple to be tried as truth.

Not scholar's calm, nor gift of church or state,
nor everlasting date of death's release,
but careless noon, the houses lighted late,
harvest and holiday: the people's peace.

Days into years, the doorways worn at sill,
years into lives, the plans for long increase
come true at last for those of God's good will:
these are the things we mean by saying, Peace.
                                                                John Holmes

Comments

[Renee]

Lovely poem, and lovely family picture--I guess I haven't been to your blog in awhile.

Hope you're enjoying your trip to Karabagh!