The remains
Where do our
Fallen Foes
Or Heroes
Go
Do they fly into
The sky
On chariots of light
To fight again
For redemption
And rebirth
Or
Is it worse
Do they stay
And fight
Day after day
Never to lay down
To rest
Back to a wall
Head on knees
The rise and fall of
Their chests
Leading one to believe
This is real
Leading one to believe
There might be some release
Where do our
Fallen Foes
Or Heroes
Go
Heaven
Or Hell
Who is to tell
Dead is dead
All we see are
The remains
Of shattered dreams
Chris McQueeney ©2015
This was penned in response to the prompt at The Mag
11 comments:
To be able to lay down our blades...beautiful.
Their deaths can remind us of why we want peace! Love your poem.
This says it all. Excellent.
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Sounds like their spirits are trapped or disturbed. I guess they go where ever their beliefs take them. You brought up the point of whether they are foes or heroes, it is perhaps and ever ending discussion depending on which side of the war, one lives.
Very metaphysical , Wander , do we create the hell that mirrors our internal state , itself a reflection of our choices or lack thereof ?
I feel for those who feel the turmoil of war day after day.
Thought provoking words. Well done.
My husband's vibrant, handsome, smart fraternity brother was killed in Vietnam shortly after he arrived .. fresh from West Point. We salute him today, along with the many thousands of service men and women who have served .. given their lives.
I love how skillfully you have used repetition to remind us of the endless nature of loss from warfare.
Yes! Finally someone writes about sdf.
Poor little Terracotta Warriors
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