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War is a Being of its Own
April 20, 2016
?War is a being of its own,
?A body made from humans that is anything but.
Its hands are callused,
from sweeping away the dead and the dying,
from cutting heartbreak and heroism
out of battle-worn marble,
from holding onto to revenge
and anger
and guilt
and truma for far too long.
Its heart beats with the blood of the fallen,
drumming along to the rhythm
of man's own mortality?.
Its skin is made of granite,
a stone-cold cut that dashes anything thrown against it,
from hopes to dreams to love.
But in the end,
War's arms lower
and its muscles freeze.
Its fingers clench
and its ears go deaf.
Because, if only for a moment,
man has realized what they have created.
So for one human instant,
War becomes still, awaiting its inevitable reawakening.
© Noah P., Platte City, MO
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