To Be Retrieved

I see peace crumble
Into ashes of despair
While a fire is set ablaze
In the war;
Freezing the souls and
Darkening the nights;
And I ask the World,
'How is a battle won or
Lost when silence is all
We hear and sense?
How does one fight for victory
When blood runs stale
On the ground?'
I listen to agonised pain,
Beating against hearts
And see faces paled,
Affording the feel of cold tears,
Sliding down eyes.
They stir me up
When I travel to distant land
And ask for a crumb of peace
But return back in empty hands
Which only have left
Smoke and ash,
Destruction and death to hold.
Somewhere, however, I swear peace exists
And someday I shall retrieve it
For hope does always prevail.