Peace

Blue porcelain, bronze Buddha, Buddha of Stone
Beaming and benignant as the moon—
Light in the gallery is late afternoon
And momentarily I am alone.

Peace within peace, the peace of Buddha’s smile,
The peace of sculptors in some sheltered place
Smoothing the last flaw from the smiling face,
And here for me, peace for a little while.

Yet even while the craftsman curved these lips,
At that same moment of impervious peace,
Other men, somewhere, crumpled to their knees,
Broken and bloody underneath the whips.

Robert Francis

Autumn Buddha 2, Toby Marshall