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WHEN GIANTS MOVE

Hear our us. No more wars please. Peace Not War 2026

By Marie381Uk Published a day ago 1 min read
By George’s Girl 2026

WHEN GIANTS MOVE

Across the ocean, two giants breathe,

one draped in stars and certainty,

one wrapped in iron and old ambition,

and the air between them tightens,

like a wire pulled too far,

singing a thin and dangerous note.

In the halls of polished power,

voices speak of defence and honour,

of borders drawn in stubborn ink,

of history that refuses burial,

while maps are studied like battlegrounds,

and the word peace grows smaller.

Missiles are counted in quiet rooms,

submarines slide beneath black water,

satellites watch with unblinking eyes,

and somewhere a button waits,

patient as a coiled serpent,

cold as unmarked steel.

Here in the United Kingdom,

we feel the tremor through our teacups,

through markets, through whispered news,

through the uneasy jokes in pubs,

because when giants shift their weight,

small islands still can drown.

Children revise for ordinary futures,

while headlines pulse in red and white,

alliances harden like winter ground,

and every speech sounds rehearsed,

as if the script was written long ago,

and no one dares change the ending.

Do they remember the graves already filled,

the fields where silence screams,

the cities rebuilt from ash and bone,

the mothers who never stopped waiting,

or has pride grown louder than memory,

has power grown deaf to grief?

War does not arrive with trumpets now,

it creeps through cables and coded light,

through sanctions, through cyber shadows,

through threats that never fully sleep,

until one spark in the wrong hour,

could set the whole sky burning.

I stand beneath our grey British clouds,

listening to the distant thunder roll,

and I pray that wisdom outlives ego,

that restraint outlives rage,

because if those giants choose to clash,

the dark will not stop at their shores.

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About the Creator

Marie381Uk

I've been writing poetry since the age of 10. With pen in hand, I wander the realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture you ❤️#Marie381UkWrites

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Comments (2)

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  • Mark Grahama day ago

    This is when our hope will not disappear and we must have faith that the right decision(s) will be made. They need to think of others not only themselves. Good job.

  • I always had been proud, even during controversial times, to be an American. With this current administration, that pride has been buried. We've killed our own for speaking out, ignored those in power when they preyed on children, and the list goes on. Now, I'm wondering if the pride I once felt can ever be restored since we've been thrust into a war that no one but a pedophile wants. And he only wants it to take the focus of his previous crimes, which are many. God help us but I feel we are doomed.

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