Wars Make History Poem by Diana Rosser

Rounding the corner a desolate wind
slices through clothing like a blade of steel
wrapping the lost souls of the battlefield
into a tight sorrow that drags the sting
of salty tears from somewhere deep within.
Red and blue flags on high white poles reveal
lines drawn across the tough gorse and thistle
and it is here, I hear the skylark sing.
You are explaining that wars make hist’ry
searching grassy mounds for the fallen foe
wondering why there remains a myst’ry
where the victors fell there’s nothing to show
but here are their legacy, you and me
walking this battlefield from long ago.