Civil War


By L.T Garvin

Riding on horses
those pale, pinched faces
in times where
one year became ten
in the lines on their haggard faces.
The hard battlefield
opened her hesitant fingers
letting the blood swim through
lending a futile hand
to separate the souls
falling from horses.
Heady array
of blue and gray.
Now the misty war ground
calls beyond the existence of man.
Do we hold these truths
as dearly as we should?
Do we truly honor the dead?
Make amends for our greed?
Universal truths wrapped in
bullet swirl.
What do we leave here now
as we perish from this earth?

7 thoughts on “Civil War

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