One Road to Travel

One Road to Travel

 The fire of light goes down to darkness in the sky,

Walking down this road away from a war that just ended.

To the dead friends and soldiers I say goodbye.

To those who live as I leave the battlefield don’t be offended.

As my eyes watch the clouds that have cast a murky dye.

Let your hearts beat on; I hope your lives will be mended.

I stare at my arm with bandages that meant to make my bones mended.

But they are blackened from dirt and blood just as the sky.

I loathe to look up above; let God not be offended.

But the sky is filled with the odor of lives who have said goodbye.

The battle was won; but in my mind it hadn’t ended.

Deep down inside Death had rubbed my spirit with a pitch black dye.

I tear at it, claw to remove this disease ridden dye.

No stitches of time will ever let it be mended.

My fate burns with anguish like the setting sun in the sky.

The ghosts of the dead soldiers would stare at me offended.

For I lived; I didn’t have to say an agonizing goodbye.

But for what its worth; my life might has well have ended.

My journey from hell to heaven has still not ended.

Let there be a drop of rain to wash away my soul’s black dye.

To clear away the heat of the gun smoke might allow me to be mended.

The smoke that chokes and suffocates the light of the sky.

To see war spread through the atmosphere should have the living and dead offended.

Because now that war has said “hello” peace will forever say “goodbye”

I still pray that serenity would bring me welcome and that war say “goodbye”.

That the wars over wars will finally have ended.

Let a rainbow stretch over and kiss the dust filled sky.

May the charcoal trees I see before me be brought to life and mended.

Allow their snarl branches to be softened and filled with a colorful dye.

Resurrect peace and let all the demons of hell be offended.

If only blood and battles made those demons offended.

Then the thousands of dead soldiers would have never murmured goodbye.

And perhaps the war being yelled in my mind would have ended.

Maybe I could have saved my soul from drowning in its dye.

Only then could simple bandages allow my crushed arm to be mended.

Only then could I walk down this dirt road and not hate the brown shadowed sky.

 This is my one road to travel and yes I am offended.

That sanity has left me and barely whispered goodbye.

The war rages on; let me live long enough to be mended.

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