The Quiet

The quiet before the storm,
The sunshine before the rain,
The peace before the war.

The quiet appears in different forms. 
It may be the murmurs from pew to pew in a church,
Or the vibrations of the heavy bass at a concert,
Or the frantic scribbling of pencils in a classroom. 

The quiet should not be broken. 
It should not be ripped away
From the people who need it most.
Yet it is. 
The quiet is shattered
And the peace is broken. 

Churches are peace.
Schools are peace.
Concerts are peace. 
Mosques are peace. 

Churches should be peace. 
Schools should be peace. 
Concerts should be peace. 
Mosques should be peace. 

The world should be peace. 

Maybe not everywhere,
Maybe not all the time,
But in certain places
We should be able to find peace. 
We should be able to find the quiet. 

The quiet shouldn’t always be disturbed
By hatred,
By xenophobia,
By bigotry,
By racism,
By white supremacy,
Or by gunfire. 

I miss the quiet. 
I miss the quiet before the gunfire. 

(My thoughts are with you New Zealand.)