Come home, they stagger toward the exit door
like blind men grasping in the light of day
I float in dreams to watch them pass before
they enter their own country blown away
by visions they shall store within their dreams,
home now, not home – not black nor white, but gray.
They stumble as they walk into the crowd
that hums within the terminal like bees,
their language here, so strangely disallowed,
sad wisdoms banned by countrymen like these
who cannot bear the onslaught of such pain
as war engenders, even when it leaves.
It never leaves, for lightening when it rains
shall stir the flash of guns that foreign night
when death was dealt and all those lurid stains
still curse their hands and memories restore
the smells and visions of a buried fight --
detritus and debris of wretched war
for those come home into your sightless sight.
Author notes
As a wounded veteran from a long-ago war, I am deeply touched at the airport when I see young warriors come home from this war. Two nights ago I dreamed I watched, as a ghost, as they returned home to their own country.
A contest entry
- War Poems- Terzanelle Form #2 by kendhal22.
500 points, ended September 13, 2008, 10 entries
Honorable winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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A Grand Poem!!!
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very pretty
This well written poem, but it has to have the second line as the last line in each stanza. Terzanelle form are similar to the Vinanelle form. The first and the second become a couplet for two new couplets at the last stanza. Thank you for coming to my contest. I looking forward to see you more in my contests. Kendhal22
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