War concludes, piercing the proof of silence;
Influence spent, the station of splendor set,
Undressed in stillness; an ambush on our union.
But let’s not paint the words; let us just say it-
War, for the warrior, never ends.
War, for the dead, lives on without them.
War outlives our marriage to grief.
Grief, then, outlasts the lover’s ceremony.
It beats it back,
Rupturing it with devoted impatience,
Drowning it under earth’s damp ground,
Like a monstrous wave unleashed by frail levee.
We sense the dark curve of evermore run screaming
Along the edge.
Not many could keep on in this perilous wave,
No love, no devotion, no vigor, no union,
None, save for war…
Influence spent, the station of splendor set,
Undressed in stillness; an ambush on our union.
But let’s not paint the words; let us just say it-
War, for the warrior, never ends.
War, for the dead, lives on without them.
War outlives our marriage to grief.
Grief, then, outlasts the lover’s ceremony.
It beats it back,
Rupturing it with devoted impatience,
Drowning it under earth’s damp ground,
Like a monstrous wave unleashed by frail levee.
We sense the dark curve of evermore run screaming
Along the edge.
Not many could keep on in this perilous wave,
No love, no devotion, no vigor, no union,
None, save for war…
© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman
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