All In War - the Telegram
This soul is locked forever wounded
In the torment of this particular day;
The question "why" has not been graced
With answers understandable.
And my tears,
Along with the questions
Have no voice...
No peace..
No choice...
So always, and sometimes, hope in wonderment
The spirit of my courage
And his duty
Is more or less of finer things...
But, after all the wishes,
I am just a Windflower
White and fragile,
And stubbornly alive
On a sharp rocked shore
Next to an undulating
Black marble monument...
Standing for the lost and the fallen.
Waiting in a tremble of despair
For my own Hero of certain reality,
Who understands Windflowers
And the need for
A sheltering embrace
In this particular life,
On this particular day
On a golden afternoon
Before a knock on the door
Locks my soul
Forever wounded....
On this particular day...
Copyright © Elizabeth Landon-Lane | Year Posted 2012
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