the peacemakers

no calm can come from killing-fields,

green grasses

dyed red

            with blood,

ploughed under by

the heavy pile

            of our most belov'd.

our mothers wail

and beat

their breasts

for sons who won't return

to home, except 

in wooden chests

draped with stripes and spangled stars.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Poem is true. No honor for poor families receiving their men or woman wrapped in a flag. I had to go with a Chaplin two times to report a death to a wife. No words can stop the upcoming pain. Their suffering made my view on War change. Time will change the view. Old heart won't ever heal. A powerful poem. We must remember the poor innocence people who are in the way of War.
Coyote