The rhythmic swish of the dark ocean waves
Conceals the horror of uncharted graves
The warm dappled sunbeam sparkles and leaps
Over lost tombs in decade-pleated deeps
Across whitewashed sands carefree children run
Where once lay man with a prayer and a gun
As shell-fire and smoke and bloody tears fell
Bathing the shore in red rivers of hell
Nostrils burning with the grim stench of death
Time; precious yearning in every breath
As hatred and love and grief are laid bare
In volleys of terror piercing the air
Delirium offers tormented bliss
Twixt strident reality and her kiss
The rise and pitch of after and before
Launches the dying to a one-man war…
There is no glory in war; it may seem
As if its stories are simply a dream
Though they may emit a teardrop subdued
Or feelings of anguish and gratitude
Can we reignite what seems to be lost?
An appreciation for freedom’s cost
Across white-washed sands happy children run
Freedom’s banner gently blows in the sun…
Janet~
http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
great imagery, loved it.
ReplyDeleteThank-you Isabel.
ReplyDeleteReally nice, Janet. If we could see below the sand, we would all be humbled.
ReplyDeleteYes Mike, humbled to the point of living it!
ReplyDeleteGreat sentiments and the last two lines are outstanding!! So meaningful!!
ReplyDeleteNanka, thank-you for visiting and for your thoughts.
ReplyDelete