Battlescars

oznor

The old and tired and lifeless grind was light on joy and folks being kind.

Hunched over phones, they thumbed their moans, in filtered, jilted, jealous tones.

Whose desperate dreams, internal screams, and outward grins let little in?

Then fear it fell; from north, within. It clawed to reach us, sick of sin.

Despair it raged inside these walls, left malls and churches sallow halls.

But deft of spirit, soldiered on, the ones who woke to new birds’ song.

They sensed their chance to rise anew, the tremor rippled deeply through

the streets and roads, the fields and hills, the pastures green, satanic mills…

Until a swell at last was reached that saw us fight ‘them’ on the beach.

The hope eternal swelled once more and tapped its fingers on the door,

of every house, in every street,

that knew not others’ near defeat.

It came defiant – rally call,

as one, and two, and more walked tall.

The knowing that the chance was here

for untouched bodies, baring near

to once again embrace the dear.

As joined arms led and lent and loved, the shared, cared fellows back for good.

For good, this time, pray, let it be

that war is over – finally.

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