The Rose

Hadiza walked into the room smiling, covering her face with a sheet of paper, “Uncle Junaid, can I come in now?” she asked.

Junaid sighed then forced a smile out saying, “Yes Hadidi! You may come in!”

“Can I read it now Rosy?” asked Hadiza as she walked in.

“Sure, I am all ears sweet angel. Let’s hear it.” answered Rose.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” said Hadiza.

“Scout’s honour!” Rose hollered as she held up three fingers.

Hadiza stood close to the bed and smiled, then opened the sheet of paper she held,

“Peace cannot be purchased with war, for peace is priceless.

Peace calls on forgiveness to be served to those who hate you seemingly for no just cause, thus becoming what your enemies can never be; a vessel of love and light that shines through the dark times.

Peace is a torch that is fuelled by blood of the innocent

It is the heart bound with a hot barbwire that continues to beat even when immersed in a furnace of injustice.