“The pity of war. The pity war distilled” - Wilfred Owen
When the rising sun breaks
The curves and slants
Of the Rockies’ eastern horizon,
Gold and crimson rays cloak the
Western fields and mountains
With a rich florescent mantle.
Morning doves greet the emergent light
With sweet and cheerful calls,
Of greetings to the nascent day.
A small gathering of does and fawns
Pause to graze beneath the luminescent sky.
Harmony, balance and peace
Seem to rule the universe.
But, sadly we know better my friends.
Distant cousins who would
Otherwise pass a pleasant meal
Gun each other down
Like effigies in a sick carnival game.
How can we dare to hope?
How can we ever heal?
How can we muster courage enough
To sacrifice our homicidal pride
On the altar of love and justice?”
Apr 17, 2022
Apr 17, 2022 at 2:49 PM UTC
“The pity of war. The pity war distilled” - Wilfred Owen
When the rising sun breaks
The curves and slants
Of the Rockies’ eastern horizon,
Gold and crimson rays cloak the
Western fields and mountains
With a rich florescent mantle.
Morning doves greet the emergent light
With sweet and cheerful calls,
Of greetings to the nascent day.
A small gathering of does and fawns
Pause to graze beneath the luminescent sky.
Harmony, balance and peace
Seem to rule the universe.
But, sadly we know better my friends.
Distant cousins who would
Otherwise pass a pleasant meal
Gun each other down
Like effigies in a sick carnival game.
How can we dare to hope?
How can we ever heal?
How can we muster courage enough
To sacrifice our homicidal pride
On the altar of love and justice?”
Morning, peace, war
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