Open The Windows
Letβs talk about talking
The tableβs laid with peace linen
A salad of egos is being served
With teeth that bite, letβs eat
and reserve for the bin the crumbs
Our children are bullet-drilled on the field
Ripped and tattered by grenades
The survivorsβ limbs are kept as souvenirs
by soils that drink blood
Let the smoke of harmony ascend our pipes
even though we war with words
History is painted with the horrors of conflict
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder scars the returnees
From the cadaver of the fallen sprout orphans
Is it not a war on us, not adversaries?
Letβs hug and keep the guns hanging
Roses smell better than corpses
Hate is the character of the bitter;
shallow but cuts deeper
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Comments
Stellar write Anthony.Β
Thanks for the support Lisa.
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Beautiful poem Anthony :)
Thanks Mitsy