Do you read an elegy for a soldier that
was never written, or find an unknown
grave that was never dug, or revisit a
foreign land you have never seen?
Do you write a war song that has no
lyrics, or visit a dead warrior you never
knew, or find penetrating memories that
never existed except in scarlet?
Do you rid yourself of the dark
nightmares caused by countless scenes
of bloody battles painted in the gray
miasma of some child’s pain?
Can you find solace in a chaotic and
damaged warring world when the sharp
stones under your feet have turned to
Are the peacemakers, the caring souls
with loving hearts, have they vanished in
this world of madness, or have their
perpetual tears drowned them?
Can you hide to escape war’s din, and
there is nothing left except mothers
crying while bodies of their children rot
in crumbling sand tombs?