War Never Ends

Though the guns and bombs
have stopped,
War is in
the smoke that billows
over the countryside.
It lives in the scorched air
of the mountains
where we once played hide
and seek.
It resides
in the rubble in which we find
our loved ones still;
in the glassy eyes
of children
who won’t speak
or close their eyes in sleep.

War lives
in those whose spirits
went with loved ones lost,
whose lives will never again
be the same.
In those who now crawl
where they once walked
and those whose
sight is in the cane
they tightly grip

War continues
for those who cried
so many tears
and died
many deaths.
Those who ask how
to pick up the pieces;
whether it was worth the misses,
where to bury their pain
and if the anger will ever cease.

PoP (c)30 Aug 06