Ghosts, in memorial

 

 

The annual wraith of war

stalks sensitive earth,

leaving blood-stained trails

haunting tendered lives

with its heavy boots.

Ghosts, in memorial,

gather around

gatherings around

memorial stones

and half masted flags.

Poppies, in abundant echo,

badge lawyers and teachers,

housewives and doctors,

nurses and drivers

who have never ventured

before gunfire,

nor skirted craters

in a rush to oblivion.

The holy water of tears

elaborates grim remembrances

of histories shared

or

held at arms length by generations

that poorly understand

the painful chaos of conflict.