Peace

Peace.

One word.

One syllable.

Five letters.

Write it down.

Now write it again.

Write it until the feel of it is carved in your brain,

until your hand can write it without even thinking,

and you find yourself tracing it whenever your mind becomes troubled.

And then read it back.

Say it out loud.

Let that one word, one syllable, five letters,

roll about in your mouth.

Taste it.

Let it sit there.

Speak it over and over,

feel the way that it snatches your attention,

before softly fading into a memory.

Say it like you have nothing else to say.

Say it when everyone is listening,

and especially say it when no one seems to be listening.

Repeat it, over and over and over,

like a mantra,

like it is the one thing that could save you.

Repeat it like it is a lifeline,

like it is the one thing pulling you back in

from the cold, heartless ocean,

the only thing anchoring you

from being swept away in a swirling storm.

And then,

let it echo back to you.

Let it ring off of walls

and off of hearts,

and let it come back to you.

Then finally, listen.

Listen as many times as you hear it.

Listen like it is your first time hearing the word every time,

and then listen like it’s an old friend.

Let the sound of it sink into your very being,

and let it fill the quiet spots in your mind.

Let it be the first thing you think when you wake up,

and the last before you sleep,

and let it fill every moment in between.

Now say it out loud again.

Peace.

One word.

One syllable.

Five letters.

So small,

but it could change the world.

Molly Jain, Grade 11

Creative Writing Major