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By: Ezekiel Gonzales
The trenches are alive– the soldiers, they chant tuneless melodies
Ones of hope, others of despair
Lifting spirits through the sounds of anguish
Among hushed crowds,
Children play,
Mothers pray
The papers, the radios; a letter to all
Smoke and ash
Guns abash
A moment of times, a moment to ponder– things all too familiar
A stench so foul– so vile, to never cease its assaults
Bloodshed of mock brothers; enemies of war they are
A leg, an eye, torso and spine
When all has been said and done,
They all shall fly
The crows and vultures–
Satisfied from their feast of rotten meat
They pick, they peck
A nibble here, a nibble there
The taste of maggots and bugs won’t deter their meal
As the dawn breaks, as the Sun wakes
The Earth will take her victims to an early grave
Her men of war—a valiant battle they put up—yet she ponders;
“My children, your guns are not weapons,
You now know pain, but do you know what lies within?”
They stare her dead in the eye,
“We know what we are, what we are not, and we are not you.”
A battle of lives—a battle to live—living
Tattered clothes and bloody smiles
Walking home, walking alone
The ghosts will haunt; forever they are engraved to those they knew
Each a fatality to a side of hate
What for?
They know; the fight they never knew was needed
Each a villain, but merely two opposites of a goal
They say,
“An eye for an eye”
And forget the remainder;
“Leaves the whole world blind.”
