Healing Through Dialogue: End the Conflict

In fields where bullets meet the cries,
Where broken skies shield weary eyes,
Two sides have turned their tongues to dust,
And left behind the bonds of trust.

Leaders play their age-old game,
Trading peace for fleeting fame.
As war’s cold fingers, cruel and thin,
Entangle hopes and hemmed-in kin.

In homes where empty chairs await,
The echoes whisper tales of fate—
Of children lost and love that grieves,
Of letters soaked by tears and leaves.

Scholz spoke words that cut the air,
With courage rare to make them care.
A voice that dared to break the cold,
While others watched as war unfolds.

A “Pandora’s box”—they cried, enraged—
But peace cannot be cheaply gauged.
It takes more than warlike might—
It takes the will to dim the fight.

Zelensky stands, his people torn,
In trenches deep and weary worn.
He fears the talk, the weight of cost,
Each compromise a line that’s crossed.

Yet hearts can tire, the will can fade,
When war and death the earth invade.
The call for talks—be it naive?—
Is still a hope we must believe.

Families broken, homes now gone,
The breath of peace could right the wrong.
So lay aside the guns and pride;
Let courage draw the lines less wide.

For leaders who would feed the flames,
Who shield themselves with shifting claims—
May their tongues be tempered, soft,
May they learn to lift not scoff.

Peace is frail, its strands so thin,
But bold and brave souls can begin.
The war must end—the talk must start—
To heal the world and mend the heart.