Ghosts of the past

If they could still be watching,
what sorrow they would feel,
at seeing that we did not learn;
how war still rules our world.
But soldiers are our shadows,
and no war truly just,
just lives the powerful sacrifice
to hegemonic lust.
We tell ourselves it’s justice,
these battles then and now
but ghosts of truth will haunt us;
hypocrisy revealed.
If time peeled back its layers,
then we would see so clear,
that there is little honour;
no death can be redeemed.
These men were ghosts before they died,
phantasmal and destroyed,
by battle’s bloody terror;
by truth so long denied.
Fate had made them killers,
for some ephemeral cause,
and sold their souls eternal;
as every war has done.
There’s very little honour,
or glory in it all,
and even less integrity,
no matter what we’re told.
The blood, the death, the misery
have taught us nothing much,
for if they had then war would be,
a phantom ghost itself.


About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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2 Responses to

  1. JulesPaige says:

    Thanks for your visit. I finally got around to visiting you. Found something we both posted on 🙂
    This particular photo reminded me of ones that my Father-in-law had stashed in his ‘war chest’ that was never opened until after his death.

  2. rosross says:

    I am at the farm and busier than I ever am in Malawi. Trying to keep up with some poetry but it is harder with the demands here. All good though. 🙂

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