32
The call to war
Is a call to wailing
Weapons though they may be shiny
Deliver the darkness of violent death
It is only a foolish man who is blinded
By their power and sheen
It is only a short-sighted woman
Who sees demons and enemies
Reflected in a blade’s distorted mirror
It is only a deluded man
Who sees victory at war’s end
Battles are the making of funerals
There are no heroes
There are no victors
Only pallbearers
If you must enter war
You will bear the weight of the fallen
It is a heavy thing
No cause for celebration
***
Words and Images are my own. 32 is published in 81, Poems from the Tao and is available in paperback or digital through amazon and your local libraries and bookstores. Click on any title below to further explore and support my writing.
I really like the poppies to go along with the poem. Very fitting.
Thanks, Victor. This a harder poem to match up with a nature theme.
Nice poetry with photography.
Thank you, Kam:)
How true and hallowing!
Hoping no call for war in a million year!
That would be beautiful:)