World War Three

I fought my WWIII
But then I had to sign the Armistice.
I asked myself, how come
I won and yet feel hollow,
An empty cavern, echoing still
With battle cries and agonizing sighs
Of dying voices, echoes remaining
In my ears. The sailors on the ship
Pantagruel sailed in frozen seas
Moored in the floes and heard the fleeting echoes
All about them: ghosts they cried,
But just their own warm breath was melting
Ice that had frozen voices years ago;
Trapped, now released, the long dead weeping mariners
Found their voice again,
Posthumous haunting souls.
Day by day the phantoms fly away,
Night by night my nightmares become dreams,
Week by week my winter turns to sun,
Month by month the moon becomes a moon again.
The Armistice costs dear but all the gold
Brought home by mariners from distant lands
Cannot replace the peace of home and hearth
And treasured words in warmth and wedding bands.

by Linda Hepner

Comments (2)

Linda, very symbolic... love is a battlefield. Wonderful ending... excellent write! ! Brian
I agree. A beautiful result indeed Linda, but I never count my weddings or my funerals anymore, just going with the flow, as usual. Some victories are hollow indeed and that is the time to swallow hard and keep the peace. Grinning at you, Tai