Distant skies rumbling
with the drums of discord,
a call to battle unfurled into
the crackling airwaves; extolling
the Hero’s virtues.
His-story’s lesson lost in the
cracks of long forgotten gravestones
and a vision of peace weighted with
the tears of mothers, snuffed out, in the
ever swelling clamor of the war merchants.
2 comments:
Once again, you've got it exactly. I love how you end the poem with "war merhchants." That's exactly it.
i cannot help but think about the battles being raged in our streets.. we may not call it war,, or count the dead.. but the battle rages on....
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