Aftermath Of War Poem by Joseph T. Renaldi

Near the once sanguine and sordid shore,
Whence the fleets of landing craft have fled,
Where the flags on the grave sites quiver,
In repose are the ranks of the dead.

Some are buried in the covering of honor,
Others in the melancholy mishap of defeat,
All with blood stains incurred in battle,
On the fringes of eternity they all meet.

From the quietude of somber and lengthy hours,
The disconsolate veterans of the conflict go,
Lovingly laden with bouquets of colorful flowers
Visiting the graves of friend or foe.

So, as with the analogy of equal brilliancy
The early morning sun rays continue to fall,
With a touch, not partial or biased,
On the sprawling grave sites enlightening all.

Somberly, but not with redundant scolding,
The noble act of an annual visitation is done,
Though the tumultuous war years have faded,
No more of a courageous struggle is won.

There shall not be a war cry to be heard,
Nor the sprawling seashore to be bloody red.
They drive out hate and animosity forever
So posterity can honor the venerable dead.