On this Memorial Day, let us take time to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice and gave their lives so that others might live. Every dead soldier was some mother’s child; no matter which side they fought on, someone grieved their loss. Let us remember and strive to create a world where war is a thing only recalled in history books.

Angels of the Battlefield

Amid the noise and smoke and explosions,

the angels of the battlefield grow fat

with the pain, grief, and regret,

flowing from the fallen.

They absorb the cries for help,

frightened, rasping voices begging to be saved;

they are drawn to young men calling for their mothers,

who could dissolve any pain with a kiss.

Unseen specters in their ethereal dance,

doomed to haunt mankind’s killing fields

so that no brave heart dies alone and unloved.

They have wandered these bloody grounds

since the dawn of man’s society,

when some decided they or their gods

were more worthy than their neighbor’s.

And so it has been for ages past,

and likely to continue till the end of time.

But even angel’s arms grow weary

and their eyes drizzle sadness on the dying.

The look up and cry,

When will it ever stop?

There are too many faces to remember,

but we cannot,

we will not,


~Elise Skidmore ©2017

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