2008 THIRD PLACE

THE COLOR OF PEACE
Connie Zhong
15 years old, Utah

The painter sits
Poised with the paintbrush and palette in hand
Upon the rickety stool
In the midst of hyacinth and begonia fields.
Dollops of Ivory Black,
Naples Yellow,
Pink Madder,
And Raw Sienna,
Form distinguished blots of iridescence
Upon the clean sheet of white.
Not a moment has passed
Until Mother Nature intercedes,
Bringing the cascade of rain.
The painter stares with incredulous eyes
As his work is washed away,
Leaving a swirl of color,
Amongst the flowery fields.
He sees his reflection
Staring warily from the bright white,
And he understands
The heart of all men.
The color of peace
Is simple and pure.
The color is one that lies within all men,
When variant colors are washed away
In vain.
Sighing a deep sigh,
He stares into the endless white,
Wondering why it doesn't prevail,
In the war-torn world.
And quietly,
He asks himself,
"What about peace?"