White Flag

A poem about disagreement, conflict and a need to yield.

A cease-fire,
If you please
A way to concede
Without the falling of knees
A compromise of will and good
A means of undestanding what should be understood

We're both right,
We're both wrong
But neither of us is stopping
On tirades so long
And our soap boxes stretch on for days
As we present our cases in disparate ways

I can see the cracks in the sands
Where the white flags weren't used
And contentment hardly lands
I can see the ruins of our stands:
Our fellowship shrinks as our boxes expand

.