Battle

The greatest battles are those that no one else sees:
the constant ebb and flow
of pain, nausea, pride, anger,
straining against the thin veil
that holds them just beneath
the surface.
These are the battles that really matter,
the ones where all sides are equally strong,
equally righteous, equally deadly,
and always
equally silent,
conscious of their growing importance
in the underbellies of human minds,
dependent like all great secrets
on their capacity for grace
and patience.
How dare people talk of peace
when they themselves will never know rest,
when their minds are so obviously
created for debate and division?
Inward turmoil goes hand-in-hand
with outward calm,
or so it seems when soldiers lay down their guns
and shake hands,
their eyes still darting and searching
for invisible weapons
to hoist against their private enemies.