Even after all is said and done.
The war paint scrubbed off.
Family emblems desecrated into ashes.
What remains of us?
Simmering brass pots over roaring fires now calmed,
Seamless transitions from the fire of life to watery depths.
Scars that will never fade and marks that can't be erased.
No paint thick enough to cover up the pain.
We'll never know the stain, we leave on the earth.
That we might leave our blackberry juices seep into every corner.
It's easy to do,because we'll never know the hurt.
"PEACE" ,the seagulls scream, from one ocean to the next,
but we know better than to pray in vein.
For through white washed shutters we will see,
What we've left behind in our penultimate rubbish heap.
Is this to be my friends, is this to be our legacy?