A Good War, poetry by David L Painter at Spillwords.com
Thomas Eakins (Untitled (Woman on balcony waving white handkerchief))

A Good War

A Good War

written by: David L Painter


Dearest Father
I’m taking a moment to write you.
The weariness of this age
lies painfully heavy on my shoulders.
The sound of a far off church bell bequeaths its urgent message
by chiming three.
It would seem that our absolution lies in an open grave.
I read a week old newspaper yesterday, the headline asking,
“What news from the front?”
As I sit here shells explode across the way;
window panes rattle and crash.
Plaster falls like snowflakes.
There are four of us huddled in this old farm house.
We stare at each other with fear in our eyes
our words unspoken,
the weariness pooling at our feet.
Our long wait for the angels has reached its end I suppose,
for there are no heroes here.
I keep that newspaper with its question,
“What news from the front?’’
Strange! In the midst of all this
a white mouse ran across the floor in slow motion
as my mind drifts.
Father perhaps if I close my eyes this will go away.
It seems so long ago;
the grand parade as we left our small village,
all those handkerchiefs waving like white winged doves,
and the stomping of our marching feet.
I’m trying to make sense of it all,
but the question still lingers
“What news from the front?”

Your son,

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