End of a Battle

What is left after a battle. Is it the loss of humanity, or just another meaningless battle to put a feather in some General's hat.

The battle is over,

and the victory said,

nothing left to deal with,

except for the dead.

 

All that is left of this battle done,

Are the remains of the soldiers,

their job done,

gave their lives for the victory in the sun.

 

Bodies lay,

all over the field,

lost their lives and bled,

blood covers all of the ones who led.

 

Keeping the peace,

and making their stand,

proving their worth,

to the command.

 

Neither wanted,

this hellish sight,

to end up on this field,

for this terrible fight.

 

Sons and fathers,

lost their lives,

for a speck of land,

wanted by neither side.

 

But they did their duty,

and died like men,

to live forever,

in God’s embrace.

 

Blood soaked land,

lies before us,

to remind us of the deed done,

and something that needs to be said.

 

Was this necessary,

in the scheme of things,

or was a victory,

of idle hands instead.

 

The dead do not say,

what it meant for them today,

to prove the matter,

was fair play.

 

The deed done,

under the hot sun,

wondering what was done,

to prove there was no victory to some.

 

Men died,

on this field of battle,

shot and killed like cattle,

proving their worth and their metal.

 

Can they shout,

to tell their tale,

for there is only silence,

after a battle.

 

No one to hold them,

and sing goodbye,

for no other reason,

but to ask them why.

Author's Note

Believe or not, I sent this to the president of the United States.