Which War, Every War

Book_cover_janet_tree_3_b_wby Janet Turpin Myers08 Jan 2016

On that night
of grit and wonder
I saw boys split asunder
upon a field of schemes

Theirs was not a glorious plunder
nor a vanquished army thunder
theirs was merely tiny tappings
against a bloodied tree

They never saw the dreary dying
or heard the sounds of others crying
they saw only shards of suffering
while sinking to their knees

Theirs was not a final prancing
giving grace, or sighs, or glancings
they had no retaliation
against the sky of grey

They believed they were immortal
fleshy, bony, spirit portals
to a place of peace and comfort
beneath a bloomy field

Sigh upon their souls forever
never breathe the word betray
tell them how they died for something
as they gave their lives away