What Does Peace Mean To Me?

Peace. What does that word mean to me?

Well, I have often thought of it. Right from the time when I was a little girl with naïve dreams of finding some sort of genie to grant world peace or solve world hunger. I did not know much then, but I knew enough to want peace.

From the moment when my country got broken. When my brothers in this country could not actively find a peaceful means to resolve underlying issues. Issues which date back to history. I wished for peace then.

When the blood which tainted the soil was still fresh, I wished for peace.

When I saw the wounds on the protesters, I wished for peace.

I was still adequately young, that I imagined that once they came to an agreement we would all be happy once more. There would be helicopters with messages strung across them proclaiming the arrival of peace. I thought I would be able to go back to school, to my friends and we will laugh about our time away from each other and even cry about the ones who were lost.

I never expected for the peace not to come. I never expected to move to a whole different region and try to continue life like it was not stripped from others in my home on a daily basis. At that point, I wondered, will there ever be peace?

In the region where we were, they referred to us as Internally Displaced Persons and they were right. My heart was not mine. It was for those back home. Those who could not get out as fast as I did. They could not run for cover and bullets were the last things they kissed before going to eternal rest. There was no sign of peace then.

Even in the regions where we ran to. The people there would not accept us as theirs. Cultural difference was as really as anything else. We were given a nickname. Where was peace in this place we had escaped to?

I remember a classmate of mine look at me with disdain and asked me, "Do you see me killing my own people in the name of freedom?" At that point, I was desperate for peace.

No one was safe from the wrath of the bullet. No one. Where was peace? Would we ever find peace?

I returned and became an adult amidst this war yet no sign of peace.

I heard of evil acts of kidnapping and I had to wonder if they still had the cause they set out for in mind. Could I still call my brother my friend?

So now, the adult me wonders, what is that peace that the little me hoped for? What does it mean to me?

To me now, peace is being able to step out of my home without the fear of being the next femicide case or rape case.

Peace is being able to look into the eyes of my brothers who hide and want separation without seeing more thirst for blood.

Peace is being able to mourn those who we've lost without the fear of more joining the heap.

Peace is that reassurance that we are indeed heard by the one who rules us.

Peace is the warmth that surrounds our broken hearts when we finally stop seeing bodies and blood.

Peace is repentance and maturity where disagreements occur.

Peace is realizing that we are not one stagnant ball of meat that they chop and stab at because things did not go as planned. Because the guys who are not on ground zero said to do so.

Peace is letting us bury our dead and mourn them all while closing the ground so no one else has to go in this painful manner.

Peace is watching my little cousins grow up in an environment free of guns and blood shed. Peace is not having to tell them "Lay down on the floor!" at random hours of the day because gunshots can be heard somewhere.

Peace is letting them grow and have amazing childhoods which are not clouded by news of death and threats of death.

Peace is letting many other children in our country grow without all of this bloodshed.

Peace is letting these children know that all this gun violence is not normal and needs to be stopped.

Peace is letting children go school without discovering bodies as they go along their way.

Peace is letting mothers be able to provide for their family without the fear of being molested by separatists or the armed forces who swore to protect us.

Peace is being able to knock on your neighbor's door without the fear of who lives inside that house and what they may do to you.

To me, peace is liberation. It is healing. It is understanding. It is tolerance. It is consideration. It is finally hearing the cry of millions and seeing the pools of blood for what they are and not just symbols of victories in your battles. Peace is setting everything right.

Peace is everything our wounded and broken souls need. It hurts more because those hurting us this way are those we lived with for a long period of time. We knew them well enough and they knew us. Why then do they do they act like our enemies?

This cry for peace echoes not only through my nation but that of many others for diverse reasons. Peace is finally hearing us. It is pulling us out of the rubble. Peace is breaking the chains that bind us to this pain.