War seeps into sinew,
blood into mud
of an ash-streaked, tree-torn
battlefield. Nothing appears
as you think it should,
every scream and flash
a sensation in your flesh,
no, outside your body
and in every torque of muscle
a confused shock of fighting.
Let’s start over, please.
I felt love once, tender fingers
caressing parts learning to be themselves.
Now my heart is a phantom limb,
and the pain I feel, I’m told,
comes from nothingness.
Author notes
Contest prompt: Phantom Limb
A contest entry
- quick pick by sweet arrival.
400 points, ended September 2, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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loved the words 'I felt love once, tender fingers caressing parts learning to be themselves'. this is a well written piece, pulling the tragedy of loss from many arenas.
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