Is That Peace

So piteous, so alarming,
Is it for the King of peace's  sake
That the dagger won't stay in the scabbard?

Pity! Oh, it's a pity,
A voracious appetite for fame,
Turning the peace into aggression.

Fancy how people like black ants,
Are streaming with their lives in their hands,
To hand them over to the powerful.

But did Christ wage war on his enemies?
Why then should swords, guns and bombs
Reward his followers?

Thousands burning with little purpose,
Is that the peace he left?