The Mourning Doves
Dedicated to my grandpa.
As I look to the sky
My eyes lay upon the glistening moon
Hearing the distant cry
For the battle will here soon.
The soft, sweet breeze
Flowing toward the West
Does not settle or ease
The pain filling my chest.
My life has been taken over by fear
And my memories are now only distant dreams
For tonight I will shed my last tear
Overcome by Satan’s evil screams
Will I escape this living Hell
Or will I perish for my country
For if tonight is my last farewell
I hope I do not leave bluntly.
I wish this could all change
As I watch the trees sway back and forth
Though all we pay attention to the rifle range
And how stealthily we push North.
What we need is not only love
Not only trust
Not the wake up calls of the mourning doves
Or the evening gust.
What we need is something simple
Something easy to grant
Something beyond any starts twinkle
But smaller than any plant.
For this divine gift
Is not an enemy cease
But the pain lift
Of the great and mighty peace.
Copyright © Brian Byrne | Year Posted 2015
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