War is a wasted land,
a wounded state where none may truly live,
so may not be defended;
whose deep ravines, made from dry, parted lips,
wide, fearful eyes, and broken homesteads,
are empty of prophet, in death, devoid of meaning;
where the very skin of earth is cut,
and love lies bombed and bleeding.
But
Courage can be a capital city
a freehold space where opponents come to sit
and hope be ever mended;
whose public belvederes and bowers, made strong
by transparent rumination and debate
all teem with life, in truth, where words have meaning;
where the very heart of earth is put,
and peace upheld with feeling.
aplaceforpoetry 
This should be the ideal mind, Julia. Wars and borders have created the separation, cruel separation. You rightly declared: “courage can be a capital city.”
Humanity has to live.
Dear Pawan, I find we don’t get so much encouragement to write about the darker aspects of life, but ignoring things doesn’t make them go away. We need to find new ways to walk together x
Words have a life of their own, and if you write such aspects of life, then you are giving a strong hold for the voice to reach out — crossing every boundaries, and merging with the universality.
Yes, we do need to find new ways to walk together, and such collective thoughts can lead slowly to a new rise.