The guns have ceased.
Their steady pounding roar
Echoes and re-echoes in our ears,
Today we take a respite from the war
And try to sooth our nervousness and fears.
The Christmas truce will last but for a day,
Tomorrow dawn the guns will pound again
And spill more blood. Because we will not
The price in love, we must remit in pain.
Today we read of angel choirs that sing
Of peace on earth, good will to all mankind,
Can we not hope, like ancient Magi wandering,
A total and a lasting peace to find?
Some day the guns will
cease; to pound no more,
And Christmas morn will hail the end of war.
© 1998 by Henry F. Heald