This poem was the result...
Warmth and the faint scent of home
Drift from the pot
All the more appetizing after the chilling cold
Shivering on the line before battle
The taste brings back memories of hearth and home
Softness left behind during days of peace
I can almost picture the wreath and holly
Decorations our parents put up to celebrate the holiday
Memories are conjured up by that pot
Simmering within the stew
I’d come running inside to its savory scene
A celebration of life
Of families gathered around the table
I remember when I used to celebrate death
In all innocence, probing your weaknesses with a stick
We grinned at each other in cheery bloodlust
Delighting in our wooden substitutes for swords
How we tested each other
Childish foes, challenging weakness
A violent game to diffuse the giggles within us
The end of the battle was always laughter
Do you still laugh now?
I catch a glimpse of you
A cold-eyed war goddess in a miliary uniform
Scanning your enemy with your binoculars
Are you looking for me?
Or have you already spotted me
As I’ve spotted you?
Do you remember how we used to smile slyly at each other
A pair of annoying girls with knowing smirks
You whispered that only you’d get to kill me
I offered a breathless promise to kill you first
Did we ever think it would come to this?
You leading one army
I, lost in the ranks on the opposite side
Did you mean it when you promised me to death?
Or was it a way of pledging something more dear?
I never laugh when I pull the trigger
Taking aim at the enemy
Killing your soliders, one by one
Watching the life fade from their eyes
They’re the same as me
They’ve promised to die for you
Where’s the savage, childish glee?
We once had, when it was only play?
The chill of the front is seeping into my bones
Numbing me, turning me into something less than human
Yet sometimes when when we heat a pot of soup
The scent tickles my nostrils, stirring my memory
Bringing back memories of home
Do you smell me as I smell you?
Whiffs of home, captured in a pot
Stirring up recollections of happier times
Or have you risen far above such simple thoughts?
Trapped within an officer’s uniform
A cause which killed the girl I used to love
Leaving an enemy standing in her place.
No comments:
Post a Comment