By Bud Koenemund
For those who do not know peace.
Every generation forgets
Stories their fathers told; evoking horrors
Beyond the pale of humanity; debts
Recalled with cold sweat; mem’ries forever
Seared into their minds; invisible scars
Borne; never quite healing despite years passed.
This curse entices the young toward valor;
A supposed glory they think will last.
So, those terrible lessons must be learned
Again; steeped in blood, and death, and madness;
Where the dead are free, but survivors yearn
For solace: a peace they’ll never possess.
Each age is
destined to fan war’s embers:
Every generation
remembers.
