The children run and play amongst the broken bones.
Roses grow and butterflies fly above our fallen foes.
We cannot escape as much as we turn from the past.
Our feet shuffle and toes squish amongst the fallen ash.
Tears of those dead have watered that line of oaks.
They pull in each drop as the rag soaks.
And with each sun more souls are added still.
Into the killing field until the ground is fully filled.
-OM
44.1
Chilling, yet beautiful words!
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This is really, a feeling piece, isn’t it…By the way, I like how there are, so many, emotions, attach to this one…
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so sad. its horrible! this pandemic is just, a nightmare.
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This is a nightmare scenario Jason. Like many eras of war all bound up in to one. Or is it about the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia? Either way it hits home 🌈💜
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