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Poetry Magnum Opus


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I had to lie to winter after it asked me
for directions to heaven. In letters I
lied to my wife, protocol demands
her husband be a patriot. hero.
Darkness bled from the light as we laid
the dead and made two tracks for
the train of war that travelled backwards,
there was the gap in the trajectory waiting
for me.

In a dream I was the wind blowing dust off
the lens that was capturing the oral photographs
of war, death does not recognise me in this form
as I arrive home to straighten my wife's hair and
scatter the voices of despair to put out the fires of
war. The scarecrow of my mind smiles then screams
as i emerge from flames, fires clear like death's
blurred vision, light from stars like stethoscopes.
I am one of the herd desperately seeking a prescription
for hope.

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Interesting Barry, your juxtaposition between sound and sight mixing the two.  I read this as being written by a soldier in the chaos of war.  Unique and vivid images.



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There are two things that stood out in this perspective. The soldier made it home alive, and he considers himself "one of the herd."


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