This is an angry poem. br About those weasel phrases br which blow like paper in the street br going nowhere, br hiding truth, br helping us to br deceive ourselves. br br 'The pee-yus pro-sayus' - br say it in the Irish voice br of obscurantist politicians br often enough br and we'll accept it as a term, br and believe that it needs hard work br and forward planning br and careful progress br and compromise br and agreements br and initiatives br and 'generous' concessions br and declarations of intention br and cautious examination br of opponents' motives br in the 'battle' for peace br and coming together br to establish differences... br br Peace br is what is eternally there br when war and strife is absent. br Eternally. br br I can't remember Christ br (was he Catholic or Protestant? I just can't remember...) br saying br 'Peace process be unto you'... br uh, when would that be? ... br or commanding the waves of the Sea of Galilee br 'Engage in the peace process - be still'... br somehow it just doesn't seem to carry weight br as a blessing or a do-it-now... br 'Go in process towards peace, my child...' br br I wonder why that is.