War is a messy business. Yet, still I honour the sincerity that men and women of past present laid their lives down on the lines. We still hold the naive belief that war will bring peace. I also honour those who have given their lives, both literally and figuratively, for peace. We all know what happens when we let our beliefs define and divide us. Let us collectively, in a spirit of celebrating all life, come together and seek solutions.
I offer this from what I call the "Olden Days Words"
The War Chronicles
My heart weeps.
I bought myself a rose yesterday.
I am reminded of an old reprint, my mother’s, called “The Weeping Rose”
Its head bending down from the vase,
A few petals fallen.
Soon my rose will suffer the same fate.
Age and time will take its toll.
A mother’s head is bent over,
Her child is dying.
Petals falling.
She weeps like there is no tomorrow.
Her child dies because someone from somewhere else is
Liberating her country.
She is not asking for liberation.
She is only asking for the life of her child.
Those who have never wept for a dying child
Say it is the price of freedom.
I ask you if she were asked to choose lives of her family to pay the price
Who would she choose?
My heart weeps.
I resolve to keep my rose
Until all its petals have fallen.
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