This memory of war -
most senseless and hurtful thing
ever contrived by us.
Memory intrudes
aching and non-healing
but true,
and so unforgiving
upon our lives.
This memory of war –
things we do when we must,
not allowed to take
our own wills into account;
forced to play the dirty games
of insane people.
But it is we who must
clean the Augean stables
for them in the end,
so filthy and corrupt.
This memory of war –
sorrow for sorrow,
death for death.
The only recourse,
to fight again -
or forgive.
|
Author notes
adapted from an idea by exenia, regarding the poem "His Winter War".
Adding your comment:
