Heroes
And the rain, again, takes up our day,
folds it into threes, and watches
as the world wraps up its gift,
first at the edges, then centered,
with more confidence and force
than justified. Who will forget
the hollow horse and its stifled
coughs, the stench of men too
long unbathed and drenched
in fear. Or the small girl running
naked, arms outstretched, skin
peeling, her life become a litany
of pain embroidered across
the unfeeling sky. Do not thank me
for your freedom, the mortgage
and its tax breaks, your designer
shoes. We didn’t bleed for you.
“Heroes” first appeared in Blue Fifth Review. Many thanks to editor Sam Rasnake for accepting this piece.
O at the Edges 
Robert, this is perfection. I especially love the three ending lines-such raw honesty there.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am sick of war and the excuses used to instigate or prolong it!
LikeLiked by 3 people
I hear you. I do.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m in full agreement–war and excuses for it sicken me as well. Phenomenal poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. When will it end?
LikeLike
Some say we’re in the End Times, so the last battle would be coming soon–and God/Good wins!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This cracks me wide open. Your words bring back images. When will we learn?
LikeLiked by 1 person
We don’t seem to learn this lesson…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. My Navy Corpsman brother-in-law would understand. He still hears the chop of the rotor blades.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve known several people who still hear the rotors.
LikeLike
May I copy, and attribute this, to my Facebook page?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Certainly, Will. Thank you.
LikeLike
A sad and endless circle. (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, alas.
LikeLiked by 1 person