Psonnets of Friendship
Mercy, and Not Blood

I do not hold a plowshare, but a sword
till enemies as brothers take and eat
from battlefields the barley, corn, and wheat,
which will be sown there rather than discord,
and sheaves instead of weaponry are stored
in garners built where armies once would meet,
and we, my brother, wash each other's feet
and do not think ourselves the other's lord.
This desert will become a watered plain,
not like when God judged sinners in the Flood,
and swords we beat to plowshares will not stain
our farmlands, flush with food, where flowers bud,
once where the judgments fell, new mercies rain,
and we desire mercy, and not blood.
~ by Michael Rew / Email: witness@psonnets.org

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