Ghosts of World War 1

Ghosts of World One prose Poem

I am walking on a crowded rural trail in rural France. With a start, I realize I am walking through a World War one graveyard. The graves have released the dead and the dead are walking trying to communicate, but they are merely ghostly images of the dead soldiers. Millions of them lost wandering about and when they see me, they beseech me to help them find their lost loves and I tell them I cannot help them, that they are dead, and then they cry and the anguished sounds of the dead and dying soldiers fill the air. Soon joined with the sounds of machine guns, cannon fire, screams of the dead, the smell of the poison gas, and the other terrors of the long-ago battle.

The scene shifts a bit, and I am marching into battle with them before they had died and realized that the end is coming but there is nothing, I can do but watch the coming of death and watch with horror the death of my new best friends.

The poisonous gas overwhelms me and I succumb to the poison gas attack.

Then the scene clears, and I wake up. The ghosts smile and say,

"See that's what happened to us. Please tell the world to not do this again. Please end the war everywhere. Please Please."

I promise and wake up feeling that I had promised but to whom and what I knew not.