ELEVENELEVENELEVEN on remembrance day at the cenotaph politicians pontificate on sacrifice with prolonged preaching and jumbled words aimed at weathered berets who sit in stoned silence ignoring the rhetoric recalling only how pain and purpose consumed their youth without any warning the speakers rise like floating balloons in a parade with cartoon faces and mouths frozen in mid sentence floating high away and above the old veterans whose widening eyes gleam with joy they are elated that the elected hover freely with no strings attached these ancient soldiers are grateful for this interlude their gratitude unmistakable and more genuine than the wreaths laid at the feet of their dead brothers their silent wish a solemn prayer to soar once more young men again in silver birds winging worlds now found only in history books to be borne high above and far away from the staged din of victory’s purloined regret they sit and age along with their stories their legends ascending--- their influence draped over generations like the tired skin of another time peter hrastovec
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:06:45 +0000
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