It's been about 4 months since I tearfully bid farewell to the children of Peace Village, and not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of those bright spirits. Some times they are as much a part of me as my own breath and other times the veil thickens and I'm faced with the reality that details fade with time as naturally as the Earth turns. Still, these children who were robbed by a war which ended long before their conception remain my teachers each and every day.
This past weekend I met 14 new teachers during a Warrior Songs Creative Arts Retreat for veterans. at a wonderful Quaker retreat center near Philadelphia called Pendle Hill. Men and women, representing many wars, and all branches of service risked stepping outside their well crafted bunkers of isolation and pain, several for the first time in years. Some arrived cautiously, not trusting and some came wearing extra armor to protect their broken hearts. Others arrived more sure footed and eager to take their next step in healing.
Together they created a beautiful, community of unconditional presence and love, strong enough to hold an ocean of memories. Rooted in truth and trust, the bond was tough enough to withstand reenactments of battles - both public and private, yet tender enough to hold tidal waves of tears, and at times even intoxicating laughter. Authentic and raw, stories were heard, held and honored, as a backdrop to friendships being born.
These veterans of war and the children of Peace Village may not seem to have much in common. But for me they do. They are stuck yet determined, vulnerable yet strong, tender yet fierce, tired yet resilient. They are warriors of peace whose bones know what war does. They are courageous. They are my teachers.
