Not the peace of a cease-fire
not even the vision of the wolf
and the lamb,
as in the heart when the excitement
and you can talk only about a great
I know that I know how to kill,
that makes me an adult.
And my son plays with a toy gun
how to open and close its eyes and
without the big noise of beating
swords into ploughshares,
without words, without
the thud of the heavy rubber stamp:
let it be
light, floating, like lazy white
A little rest for the wounds - who
speaks of healing?
(And the howl of the orphans is
passed from one generation
to the next, as in a relay race:
the baton never falls.)
Let it come
suddenly, because the field
must have it: wildpeace.
Amichai read this poem at
the 1994 awards ceremony in Oslo when Yitzhak Rabin
and Shimon Peres received the Nobel Peace Prize with Yasir Arafat.