This is War

The wind whispers through the tree, ribbons dancing in its boughs. Each ribbon holds a prayer, a plea to the Gods - Let our men be safe. Let them come home to us. She unties her own mint green prayer from her windswept hair and adds it to the rainbow. Her plea is the same as the many before her, the many who will follow. “Bring him home to me, let him meet his unborn child.” She kneels and bows her head, solemn and serious. Time passes and the birds trill their mournful tune, she rises, taking in the rainbow once more before beginning her descent back to her cold, empty home.

The bird lands softly beside the man, the gift held firmly in its beak. It totters forward slowly, unwilling to stir the creature from its slumber. It surveys the area with its beady eyes and sees the fleshy mounds, red with blood, laying all around. It cannot comprehend the sights it sees, it does not understand the carnage. Vacant eyes watch the bird and, as it hops beyond their gaze, they watch the shadow it leaves behind. It seeks a spot on the young man's chest and deposits the mint green ribbon upon his silent heart.