The War Is Over

 

The War is Over

The war is over I hear them say

But it still comes to me

Most every day

It often wakes me up

Searing images consume my mind.

I tremble

Scream Aloud

I’m there again

Each bullet engraved with the name of a friend

Today Tomorrow

One will bear, My Name

I long for hearth and home

Before that time draws nigh

 

And now I’m home dead faces

Stalk my grieving soul

My senses, mock me

My tormented mind scream

Am I there or here?

Sometimes, it’s remembered smell:

Tear Gas and bombing Shells

Faceless men

Marching feet

Legless beggars in the street

Whiskey foul breath

Vacant face

 

Who can blame them? I cry

They have seen the Devil’s Hand,

Displayed

And fear for their immortal lives

 

Flag draped coffins

Raised high in Glory

Piper’s last lamented story

With heavy hearts and halting strides

Borne to final resting ground

 

Some days I wish that it was I

 

And the strident cries

“No more war. No More lost lives.”

Until the next time

 

The war is over. It’s proudly said.

But my mind, my body

Lives it

Every day

 

Gemma Hill 2012 ©