Tall black figures
Dark arms reach for the red hazy sky
A shadow of once magnificence
A roaring lion
Tears through their ranks
Many lay fallen
But some still stand
A memorial of a once better time
Ashen tears rain from the sky
now
A world of black and gray
Sorrow and depression
The end
Obsidian arms laden with snow
White powder dusting their black coats
Silence overwhelming all
Mist weaving through making a soft gray blanket
Protecting them from the biting wind
Still they stand
Guardians of the new memories and the old
But the end leads to a new beginning
A new life
Lime green shoots peep from the ash
as small innocent children
Mushrooms tip their caps to one another
Making homes on the black coats of the fallen soldiers
Life slips in through the cracks
That destruction left behind
And still
With old obsidian soldiers standing guard
YOU ARE READING
Obsidian Soldiers
PoetryI wrote this poem in my English class. It is about the forest that burned near my house this summer. I travel through there almost every day so it meant a lot to me. I hope you enjoy.