I was inspired to write Olive Branches Don’t Grow on Trees in large part because of my lifelong passion for peace. Throughout the novel, I explore the many forms war can take—not only on distant battlefields, but within families and hearts.
In one scene, Silvia, the novel’s protagonist, draws a parallel between the war in Afghanistan—unfolding during the time frame of the book—and the ongoing conflict within her own family. For Silvia, these wars are not separate. Both are fueled by fear, power, and the inability to listen, and both leave lasting emotional casualties in their wake.
The parallels between personal and global conflict continue to feel painfully relevant today. Inspired by current and devastating wars around the world, I was moved to write a poem about war—its costs, its cycles, and the longing for peace that persists even in the darkest moments.
I’d like to share that poem with you below.
The story of war
I dreamt I was a soldier
Death came every second
Bullets soared
like angry falcons
into skin, already broken
Screams of deep pain
fell on the crumbled ground
Lost limbs flew through a firelit sky
Bombs shook the earth
Investors cheered
Journalists told the same old story
with no beginning and no end
I woke and prayed hard
for a new story
called Peace
Scene from Chapter Seven of “Olive Branches Don’t Grow on Trees”
In effort to block the noise in her head, Silvia grabbed the TV remote that was on a small, dented end table next to her chair, and turned on the television. She was hoping for something comedic, like a Seinfeld or Simpson’s episode, but, instead, she got an update on the latest casualties in Afghanistan. This was even worse than the noise in her head. The war reminded her of her family, and her family reminded her of the war. Fucking war! Never ending fucking war! The thing that has always been and will always be. Arrows morphed into missiles. Sticks and stones turned into atomic bombs. No end and no beginning, just like the fighting that existed and would probably always exist within her family.
She looked over at Vince, who looked like he wanted to jump into the television set and make everything right. She looked at Cosmo, who looked jaded, expressionless, and complacent as a turtle. He was the person who knew how it all really was and knew that their family was just like the rest of the world. Too late for saving. A family of divisions and alliances. A family with so many lines that had grown thicker with time and would just continue to thicken as time went on. Lines that could never be erased.
“When will this war ever end?” Vince said, his arms flying through the air.
“Whenever it does, you can rest assured that another one is right around the corner,” Cosmo said.
“Yeah,” Silvia said, her eyes transfixed on the television set.
“But why?” Vince cried. “Why does it have to be that way?”
“Because it is,” Silvia said, who was suddenly talking like a realist.
“As long as people have been around, they’ve been fighting with each other,” Cosmo said, getting up from his chair. “I mean, think of the cavemen. They fought with each other over buffalo and women.”
“As long as I can remember, our family’s been fighting too,” Silvia said.
“Well, that doesn’t mean we all have to go on fighting for the rest of our lives,” Vince said, surprising Silvia with his sudden concern for the well-being of their family.
“I tried, Vince,” Silvia said. “I tried to fix things in our family. Look where it got me.”
“Where?” Vince said.
“Nowhere,” Silvia said. “No. I’m worse than nowhere. I’m defeated.”
“Trying to make peace in our family?” Cosmo said. “You’d have better luck in the Middle East.”
Grace Mattioli is the author of the Greco Family Trilogy books, including Olive Branches Don’t Grow on Trees, Discovery of an Eagle, and The Bird that Sang in Color. These books are available from all major online book sellers, including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Apple Books.
