Silent Witness

Silent Witness


The ground is ripped asunder
by the hands of death's harbingers.
The first tender shoots of spring
      are crushed
leaving verdant stains
across cruel metal blades.

The earth opens like a raw wound,
red and torn,
      bleeding its life
            into jumbled piles
as its necrotic minions
scurry for darkness
once more.

Canvas covers death's blanket
in a vain attempt to
hide the coming truth.

The ground lays open,
warmed and lighted by the rising sun.
  It lies about the darkness waiting –
      it lies about the coldness waiting -
waiting to embrace it's victim,
waiting for a soldiers return.

The pungent odor of decay
wafts on warm air
and infuses into waiting wreaths ...
hiding eventuality.

Flowers flutter like staked butterflies
in the morning breeze ...
a single petal falls,
tumbling in the currents
exposing the fragility of existence.

The serenity of the moment
lies like fallen tears,
pooling in anticipation of
      the shuffling of feet
            the sounds of benediction
until it can reclaim the silence
of eternity.

All is ready ...
but the hearts of those left behind.

Marbled rows of heros past stand
in silent witness ...
      waiting to welcome one of their own.

Notes

An entry for "HONORING OUR VETERANS "  [ASR]
They may have banned us from watching our fallen comrades coming home but once glimpsed, the images remain forever in the heart.

Since you're already here, please leave a comment. Criticism welcome - I don't take it personally. I'm just trying to improve my abilities. If it touches you (good or bad, laughter or sadness), that's feedback too and good to know.
Thanks...
Ken