Wednesday, 1 January 2014

They Watch

The trees are dark and silent
Any hint of light or heat has long passed with the sun
Standing mute testimony to the violence
They watch, as always
Silent and passing judgement
Decrying the horrors they have witnessed
Agonising over each drop of blood spilt
Blood that gives new life and growth even as it means death
Blood that flows deep into the earth, leaving behind only a memory of what was

The moon sets slowly, casting soft silver light
Glints of light from shards of metal
Glimmers of hope now shattered and left fallen
Lost, as all hope was lost
There were no victors here, no cries of celebration
Only the screams of those not yet gone
Abandoned to their fate
Their blood soaking into the ground
Giving new life
But not theirs

The stream passing through swirls aimlessly
Painting a reflection of the sky
Stars shining, shimmering, then gone
As another dark shape circles in the water
Making its slow journey to the sea
A frog's croak sounds, then is silent
Sacred void broken but for a moment
Even the air is still this night

The morning will see light, movement
A thousand lives started for each one ended
Yet the trees will scream in silent despair
Forbidden to move, to act
Condemned to watch alone
Lacking even the comfort of company
So they watch
And die even as new life seeps through their roots

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