the village will dance

old village on the outskirts of the

noise and war and conflict, safe

annual celebration for the epitome

of peace, the villagers dance

swish of skirts to marches of battle

click of heels to gunshots and spears

tapping rhythm to drums of war

dance until the sun melts

into billowing clouds, and continue

until the stars fade into

a glowing horizon.

All around their little bubble

the drums of war

continue to beat.

written by: diana