Aftermath
In the aftermath of battle,
One needs to find a place
Where one feels safe enough
To lay down one’s weapons
And let them tarnish and rust
And gather dust, at least until
The ink has dried on the treaty.
Then they must be cleaned
And sharpened and reinvented
And made ready for
The next ill-advised incursion
Into hostile territory.
This is essential.
Even the best troopers
Eventually get their fill of war.
Then they are of no use to anyone,
Not even themselves.
One can tempt fate,
But one can’t escape
The god of unintended consequence.
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