First Words for the Day—July 1, 2018

I spent the day in bed, on Sunday, the first of July, resting an injury that had split open after the stitches had been removed, and hoping it would start healing. So far, so good, but it meant I didn’t go near a keyboard, and had to resort to writing long-hand, so I returned to a poetry project I’d set aside a while ago, and which I want to complete in time to publish at the end of the year. This is the first poem  I wrote; the title and notes at the front were added this morning.

Another 365 Days of Poetry

Post-War Peace

Written on July 1, 2018, this poem was the first for a long, long while. I wrote it blind, and didn’t realise it was pondering the difficulties of finding peace after a war, albeit from a fantasy perspective. I guess the current state of world affairs is getting to me after all.

The rhythm of the music,

and the beat of dancing drums,

break the silence of the secret deeps,

until the hint of something comes.

And then the music ceases,

and all that beat are hearts,

as through the trees come creeping

those who the great wars once did start.

They lift their heads, and sniff the air,

seeking scent and solace

from the thought that not a thing survived

their war against the forest.

The trees around grow tall and strong,

the undergrowth grows lush,

but not a life-form near them stirs,

and all around them’s hushed.

“We come in peace,” their leader says,

but not a soul responds.

“We come alone,” he softly adds,

but nothing stirs the fronds.

“We come unarmed,” he says, and turns,

hands raised above his head,

so all can see no weapons borne;

when none reply, he kneels and bows his head.

“I cannot undo all that’s been done.

I cannot mend a war that’s run.

I can’t take back the injuries paid,

the damages riven, those to early rest laid.”

“I can only try to do better from here,

to rebuild the lives, to drive off the fear,

to work to prevent another great war,

to strive not to repeat what’s gone before.”

When silence rang loud, and stillness was all

the answer he got, he rose from the floor,

dusted dirt from his knees,

and turned back around, preparing to leave.

“We’ll dwell on the edge of the trees,” he said,

“where we can guard both the forest and plain.

There’s a place for you there, if you want it,

as we start rebuilding, again.”

When silence was all the answer he got,

his sadness welled up in a sigh,

but he took the first step away from the hidden,

those quietly watching with fear in their eyes.

He’d taken three steps, his companions in tow,

when, behind him, the undergrowth stirred.

“Wait,” was an order, a gentle demand,

delivered in a voice barely heard.

“This new beginning,” it said. “How do we fit?”

And the commander turned back around.

“As equals,” he said, and the whole forest stirred.

“Let us talk,” said the voice, of a leader new-crowned.
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For the curious, you can find the first poetry collection, 365 Days of Poetry, HERE, and the second collection, 366 Days of Poetry, HERE. Both are mostly science fiction and fantasy and some are just a little bit experimental.