The old soul cannot escape
the pain that no one sees,
the pang of war and brutal fear
that nothing can appease.
The first to gaze with human eyes
so many eons hence,
still must struggle asking why
of grief without pretense.
Why must love and life desist?
And what is living for?
Can greed and killing ever cease,
and bring an end to war?
The old soul must hide the pain
for they have known the years,
and time can never stem the tide
of anguish, loss and tears.
it is sad but very true... (war must go on... a lot of people livelihood depend on war machines.... i am one of them)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
such a heart felt write...I can feel the pain oozing from the page...the saddness also...great write again. Annette
Thanl you Annette for reading and commenting.