Beyond Redemption

Look around,

We're at war,

And all of us will not survive.

War is brutal,

And has no mercy,

And the weak will be the first to go.

The world may be inherited by the meek,

But now it belongs to the strong of heart,

Brave beyond measure,

And perhaps just a little foolish.

For in war,

There are the passionate,

The patriotic,

In the front lines of their own free will,

Ready to die if their people survive.

There are the reluctant,

The fearful,

Standing with a gun because they must,

Because their country calls them against their will.

There are the stricken,

The desperate,

Who have a family to support,

For whom, ironically, this is a matter of survival.

There are the disinterested,

The ignorant,

Who just need some job to alleviate the nagging,

And holding a gun, for them,

Is no different from holding a hammer.

But once on the battlefield,

They are all one of an army.

They stop being passionate, fearful, desperate, ignorant,

And all become determined,

Determined for survival.

For war is brutal,

And everyone does not survive.

Look around,

We're at war,

And all of us can feel it.

The thick blanket of constant fear,

Cloaking the houses of the common man.

Families sit at the table in silence,

Praying every second of every minute,

For their beloved fighting on the front lines.

Across the street,

All hint of joy has been sapped,

With the arrival, on their door,

Of a man in uniform,

Handing the lady a box without a word.

But oh, she knows!

She knows, and she weeps,

Because the world has lost a blessing,

And the heavens have claimed her son.

All colours seem to have dulled,

All other emotions muffled.

Children are no longer heard playing,

Dogs hardly heard barking,

Cats nowhere in sight.

But through it all they fight,

As those in the borders do,

For war is brutal,

And everyone does not survive.

Look around,

We're at war,

And all of us are its prisoners.

Staring at the carnage, not knowing,

If today is our day to die.

Trapped in our own minds,

Replaying the blasts,

Over and over again,

No matter how much time has passed.

Across the battlefield,

Sit our 'enemies',

An equally haunted look in their eyes.

The passion has faded,

The cause no longer relevant.

We're slowly stepping away,

As are they.

But it never leaves our head,

Always raging, always claiming,

Creating a wasteland of its own in there.

We'll never be the same again,

Never as sane as we used to,

When the sun shone brightly on green fields.

For war is brutal,

And everyone does not survive.