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Armistice Day

After the rifles and tanks pull out
And the final dust settles on the broken eggshell
That was once the theatre or municipal swimming pool
The landmines sit in waiting for the unsuspecting,
Ready to scatter confetti like flesh at a wedding.
 
And there is silence as if for the first time;
It echoes through the alleyways
Then in the distance,a hammersound
Pounds its intent into a brand new beginning.
A door without a house swings in the wind.
 
Photographs and belongings are scattered;
A wedding ring, one shoe and a letter.
Trinkets now, of no use to anyone wishing to rebuild
Just memories of those that no one remembers
Just things lucky enough to escape the fires.

But this was not war
And my body still carries the scars
My mind endures the trauma
And my best friend was blown to bits
And I never got to hold her as she died
And nobody won
And I’m still trying the impossible task of accounting for the losses
Yet the looters and guerrillas have moved in already
The resistance has disbanded
 
This was not war
And there is emptiness, as if for the first time.
It ricochets off the walls,
In the distance, a sound,
Pounding its intent.
A door without a house swings
But nobody wins
Nobody wins

◄ Fumbling with the Mathematics

Panchajanya ►

Comments

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Jon

Thu 6th May 2010 17:11

Hi Nash,
Really effective poem,and hauntingly true!

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