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Sunday, November 8, 2015

Flower filked sky





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:

Gail said...

To be able to lay down our blades...beautiful.

Carol Campbell said...

Their deaths can remind us of why we want peace! Love your poem.

Keith Hillman said...

This says it all. Excellent.

Visit Keith's Ramblings!

Noirfifre said...

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.

Kutamun said...

Very metaphysical , Wander , do we create the hell that mirrors our internal state , itself a reflection of our choices or lack thereof ?

Theresa Milstein said...

I feel for those who feel the turmoil of war day after day.

Susan Anderson said...

Thought provoking words. Well done.

Helen said...

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.

Kathleen said...

I love how skillfully you have used repetition to remind us of the endless nature of loss from warfare.

Anonymous said...

Yes! Finally someone writes about sdf.

Kutamun said...

Poor little Terracotta Warriors