after Picasso’s Guernica

by Elizabeth Wickland

For all the dismemberment,
anguish, killing, and gore,
the sword bears a flower:
Picasso demands more.

What if the disruption of war
were the plowing of soil,
where something good grew
from all of the toil?

What if we learned to plant
what’s returning—
perennials and trees—
instead of tilling and burning?

What if we broke
the cycles of breaking;
if the land were for planting
instead of for taking?

What if we didn’t
rely on their blood
to feed the earth,
to clear-cut and flood?

What if, instead
of starting anew,
we learned to sow seeds
seeing what grew?

Transforming the conflict
from wasteland to woodlet,
where the cash crop
is forgiveness, and we could let

hatred be weeded,
manure turned under,
hearing rain and not terror
at what sounds like thunder.

But what if this garden
is still far off—
Then we start with the small;
we choose one thing soft,

Like responding with patience
instead of with power,
or trading the sword
for a spade and a flower.