Cacophony Of The White Ravens

Peace

Rummaging through my stuff

Were a pair of curious eyes,

Little "ooh"s and "aah"s,

As he excavated things from my bloody past.

I was content watching him.

I want no truck with death;

the relics he looked at with awe.

I smiled and pretended not to hear

When he beckoned me to join him.

I couldn't wait to throw it all away;

The clinking shiny medals,

Honouring the blood on my hands,

The now rusted guns,

A reason oceans were shed for eyes

that never opened again.

But in the corner of the stashes,

He found a little sock teddy,

The heaviest of all my relics.

Something I tried to bury,

Deep in the box and deeper in me.

He looked at me with same curious eyes

Clueless to the blood on my hands.

"Tell me its story", he said.

Would he see the prey within?

Or would he see something worse?

It was a long time ago,

Back when I was all about me,

All about the number I've killed.

It was money for my home,

Food on the stove, I used to say.

But the pats on the back and

Clinks of the medals was too flattering.

When we stood under the dark sky,

Breathing in the 'enemy' air,

Smelling the sap of fresh cut pines