Battles Poem by angelica dela cruz

It is a time before government,
a few years after war,
a moment of simplicity
that grips the mind
in stunning beauty.
We watch as waves
crash their rage,
undaunted fury,
centuries old.
The waves wash pink
on the shore
against the stark white
of the crushed stones.
And in the sand lies buried
a glitter that turns cold
the core of souls.
A sword! It washes
on the shore.
It's owner's blood and
many a foe's own
have rusted its blade
and coated the hilt red.
Pick it up and run
your finger through the blade.
Feel the ridges of impact
and the wet the sea brought.
And relive the memories
of battle in mind.
When your soul fought
in vain
against faceless enemies.
And struggle to dream
the connection
of your soul against theirs.
Centuries old,
but trapped in a moment
before then and after now.