The Dogs of War

Walking softly blind eyed through time
Woken by warbled song trilling sweet
a moment of joy thrills the heart
and stirs memories of idyllic days.
Dreaming of flower scented paths,
tentative steps tread with care
lest the earth beneath is broken
by feet too heavy to heed the life
beneath and crush the joy of living
from innocent travellers along the way.

Wafting wind, still chill with winter’s end,
brushes faces warmed by sun’s rays
and lights the eyes with newborn spring
to illuminate the budding branches.
Bursting forth, trees and shrubs
bring to birth another year and point
a way once taken when the new
was greeted by dancing feet and led
to sleep in peace as time unfolded
at a natural pace to let the mind find rest.

Willing the earth fecundity and wealth
senses rise to touch, to taste, to feel
matriarchal pride in evolution’s song
as Gaia views her ever fruitful dream.
Clothing her in cosmic garb of every
shape and form she in triumph rose
to celebrate what was, what is, and
what will be if reason pacifies the lust
for power in her myopic tour de force
and stops its rush to conquer all or die.

Standing in the silence of nature’s fear
a distant rumbling startles ears
that hoped to hear the soft patter rain
but caught instead the sound of war.
Nothing makes the mind and heart
prepared for shattered bodies, homes,
ways and worlds as panic spurs
primordial memories to take up arms
and break the will of kin perceived
as foe, and Gaia shudders with each
blow as her issue ride roughshod over all.

Taking a moment to pause for thought,
all things can come to rest and find
a space to let the sunlight in to dusty
corridors of past remembrances.
Gaia holds them fast lest they break free
to slip her grasp and let go the dogs of war,
once needed to survive a harsher day of old,
but no goaler she, just the mother of the earth,
we, and only we, walking now with bloodied
hands through time can still the lust
for war and walk the earth in peace at last.