In Company with War

She sat underneath the

mostly barren sycamore trees in the

garden of the desolate church in which only

a single daffodil had yet bloomed and the

sunflowers and corn poppies sat patiently

unadorned by color and life

Siberian winter wind only grows bitter

as the sunset bleeds into nightfall and dies

and the reflection of her white eyes became

like the stars obscured by the violent flashes

of lethal fireworks in the distant sky

casting back fury and screaming that

Dissension is mortal for people

ensnared helplessly in a trap set

between the bounds of a nation

while being ogled by the hunter

Enmity of the years takes the young

Indeed, children shaking between the

arms of mothers are not safe from the

assaults as borders are strangled by the

scarlet drenched scales of a serpentine predator

Daughters of fathers await to hear of the deaths

in horrendous anticipation

She thinks of bleak images of the

imagination of the vestige of an

emptying land she calls home

The home once kept all warm and happy

Its embrace, love, and comfort are gone

All that is left is the residue of lamentation

The tears left behind have torn men down

While the bombs tore down the walls and

left bare the foundation, exposed to the world

She has no time for weeping

only for worry and thinking to herself:

who am I now?

where can I go?

I have survived this far. But how will our future fare us

Shall death and misery perhaps levy a toll

Only cries of the damned have answered in apt response

A devastating countenance leaves gloom-ridden shadows wreathing the globe