So another night.
The western front is quiet once more.
Barbed wire hangs low and mournful.
Forlorn sight in morning call.
The soldiers gone,
The screams are still.
There’s no-one here to shoot or die.
Red flowers stand
Above these parapet walls
Watching green fields retake the battered world.
Within their roots the warriors lay
Entombed in mud and stories told.
Who now calls them fools who fought?
Escaping death and monstrous guns
They ran and laughed and talked no more
Echoes of the land ships passed
Climbing high and lurching low
Fire storm in black and white.
How many tears fell when homes were told that none survived?
& what was won?
& who had lost?
The destruction of the world we knew.
But new time comes and fields are farms
The birds in trees, the rain it falls
No more mustard, missiles gone.
At least in distances told by news.
Look abroad and see the flames
Of modern lies and hated wars.
Man kills man and all because
His leaders say it’s them or him
We learn from nothing and nothing new
Forced to repeat the evil sin
That father gives to sons a-born
That killing stops the next forced war.
~ no idea. I just sat down & this came out. Maybe yoga releases more than body stress! Maybe i stare into my garden too much!
© Ed Simkins