A poem for peace

A poem for peace

Earlier today I was in Kilmovee School and we talked a bit about peace and the need to pray for peace in a very troubled world.  I told the children that I once heard a lovely poem that spoke of the cruelty of war.  I even remembered where I first heard it.  It was on a recording of Johnny McEvoy singing “The Town I Love So Well” and that I was sorry I don’t have the recording anymore.  As I spoke, the teacher brought up the words of the poem on the whiteboard and we looked at it together.  The poem is called “The Box” and its message seems tragically all too relevant right now.  Maybe you might take a look, share a thought and say a prayer for all who are suffering because people have, once again, “battered in the lid”

The Box by Lascelles Abercrombie

Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-A-Bye,
Around about the wondrous days of yore,
They came across a kind of box
Bound up with chains and locked with locks
And labeled “Kindly do not touch; it’s war.”
A decree was issued round about, and all with a flourish and a shout
And a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on before.
Don’t fiddle with this deadly box,Or break the chains, or pick the locks.
And please don’t ever play about with war.
The children understood. Children happen to be good
And they were just as good around the time of yore.
They didn’t try to pick the locksOr break into that deadly box.
They never tried to play about with war.
Mommies didn’t either; sisters, aunts, grannies neither
‘Cause they were quiet, and sweet, and pretty
In those wondrous days of yore.
Well, very much the same as now,
And not the ones to blame somehow
For opening up that deadly box of war.
But someone did. Someone battered in the lid
And spilled the insides out across the floor.
A kind of bouncy, bumpy ball made up of guns and flags
And all the tears, and horror, and death that comes with war.
It bounced right out and went bashing all about,
Bumping into everything in store.And what was sad and most unfair
Was that it didn’t really seem to care
Much who it bumped, or why, or what, or for.
It bumped the children mainly. And I’ll tell you this quite plainly,
It bumps them every day and more, and more,
And leaves them dead, and burned, and dying
Thousands of them sick and crying.
‘Cause when it bumps, it’s really very sore.
Now there’s a way to stop the ball. It isn’t difficult at all.
All it takes is wisdom, and I’m absolutely sure
That we can get it back into the box,And bind the chains, and lock the locks.
But no one seems to want to save the children anymore.
Well, that’s the way it all appears, ’cause it’s been bouncing round
for years and years
In spite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wondrous days of yore
And the time they came across the box,
Bound up with chains and locked with locks,
And labeled “Kindly do not touch; it’s war.”
________________________________________
and here’s the song … the last word of the poem is there.  I’d love to hear McEvoy recite this again.

 

And another fine song from one of my favourite singers ….

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