Lou J. Klaiber

SOLDIERS’ HOME

The old battlefields are long overgrown.
Silent now,
waiting for new battles.

The howling banshee of death.
Moments of terror
screaming so loud.
None escaping the horror
except those who die
falling
eyes wide open,
torn apart and bleeding!

… only old veterans remember
as they march slowly upon the battlefield
of old age.
The slow march into time.
Each step a memory.
Each day a sundown
marching into history.
Going home!

… and we rest often
in the forest of ourselves
as thunder rolls from the evening sky
… and we welcome the bright flashes
of lightning.
The cool slant of rain
washing the tears from our eyes.

We welcome them all!
Ghosts upon the battlefields of time
coming home to us.
Moments long gone.
Moments we survived.

The storm passes.
Leaving only…
silence.

Ghosts
within ourselves