Rewrite of an earlier poem.

[novium]

These words are the lingering echoes of memories gone
Lost in the turmoil, drowning in the froth
Caught in stands of barbed wire
These words are the testimony to all things forgotten and thrown away
precious only in their absence

Life is a gaping maw from which death must snatch its victory
And this is how we live
running evermore into the fray
measuring each moment by its destruction.

One day we'll break free of this fetid mud
And go down to the waters of Lethe
and we'll wipe the blood from our eyes

We'll grow flowers in the wasteland
a hundred thousand blood red buds in the evening sun
each an ode to forgotten comrades
each a penance for every war we've sown

One day we'll remove our chains
and bind the wounds of all our years
the river shall carry our sins away

And when we sleep,
We'll dream of a world worth mourning

Comments

[tassosss]

Oh wow. I really like the image of "a hundred thousand blood red buds,"

But the last line gave me chills.

[novium]

Thanks :) I know I have a tendency towards overwrought phrasing, usually around the parts that felt the most important to me, so it's good to know when something works.
writing this thing- I felt transfixed by the idea of the flowers in the old WWI battlefields, and couldn't escape the idea of 'a world worth morning'. I had to find somewhere to put it.

[novium]

mourning*. I really need to be more careful typing when I'm tired.