On Veterans Day

By Yopo

From the earth, my body was called to rise,
Called forth by what, I do not know,
But called, and filtered through the grass
That covers the moldering compost heap
Of things that clothed the long-forgotten dreams
Of long-forgotten days…
Dreams once bright as morning, I am sure,
But fallen now, and,
I must admit,
Falling still,
Into the ever-rocking cradle-grave
Of universal demise.

The fairest maiden soon turns to dust,
Lasting little longer than the flowers in her hair
The brightest bird flies but a little way
Scarcely outliving its song upon the air
Wooden ships are swallowed by the waves
And countless warriors, no matter how strong and brave
Hurry from their cradles to their graves
In an endless, monotonous procession.

From the earth, their bodies were called to rise,
Called forth by what, I do not know,
But called, and filtered through the grass
That covers the moldering compost heap
Of things that clothed the long-forgotten dreams
Of long-forgotten days…
Dreams once bright as morning, I am sure,
But fallen now, and,
I must admit,
Falling still,
Into the ever-rocking cradle-grave
Of universal demise.

©2003 Gregory S. Hargrave

Author comments: I think I spent a bit too much time yesterday and today watching back-to-back war movies on the television. The words above were what came of it. While the somber tone reflects a transient state of mind, the loss of innocense is no doubt permanent.