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.