Stream gauge for peace

It’s the talk of the many -
very few have been there.

Opium blooms under the title;
My own stomach asks for it.

Craving for a stupa each time you see a hilltop?
It must be a side effect of Buddhist chauvinism.

Parochialism lives here.
So does cordite smell, in cherry blossoms.
Like a waterfall that cannot curb its own speed,
we've flown into ourselves.

If you know nothing of a river's highs and lows,
you should not blame the rapid Salween.

In private
she keeps quiet.
In public
she keeps quiet too.
She doesn't know
the Bamar word for virgin.
When asked,
“Was it a Bamar soldier?”
She simply sobbed, and
nodded.

They’ve come to school,
wearing no shoes,
having no legs.
The landmines are
nowhere to be found.

Peace rests on a peace of paper.
You know no peace.
We know no peace.

Stream gauge for peace