Immortal Pride
Immortal they become,
an imagination created to feel liberated from our guilt.
Thick be the blinds of our conscience woven by vices,
When war becomes a child of someone’s pride.
Bad move,
Bad move either side of the fence
is a checkmate my friend. His salvation.
Somewhere, someone lost a son, father, brother, lover
a good neighbor maybe.
All for someone’s fallacy, doesn’t matter now.
For in death he remains unknown.
When tempers flared and egos pricked in the boardroom,
the word “charge” might have sounded easy.
This easy might get them decorated too,
decorated with a medal, honor or a rank.
The price of which they may not know,
always paid by the death of an unknown.
Humble we bow down,
Hoping and wishing we learn,
History is not just a story.
Love is all we need the celebrated said.
Until then,
Our safety and happiness paid in full
by the death of an unknown.
- at the tomb of an unknown soldier
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