Big Words Empty Promises Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Steel birds circle, shadows fall,
Giants rumble, heedless all.
Five thousand fires, held in hand,
Against a desert, shifting sand.

Two weeks pass, the battles rage,
On ancient soil, a turning page.
No swift victory, no easy prize,
Just stubborn earth and burning skies.

The desert wind whispers low,
Of pride and strength, and seeds they sow.
Perhaps true power isn't might,
But will to stand, and hold the light.

But days crawl slow, the desert sighs,
Against the storm, a nation rise.
Two mighty powers, armor bright,
Stumble in the fading light.

The promised victory, fades away,
Beneath the sun, they lose their day.
Perhaps a pause, a whispered plea,
'Forgive us, land, and set us free.'

The whisper grows, a rising plea,
For peace and grace, for all to see.
A quiet choice, a humbling bend,
An olive branch, a journey's end.

T.M.Solvang