The day the war began

The day the war began

Seasons framed in reflection
Of my bedroom window view
In the mirror
I see me in all my bedding
Hair awry, face unkempt
Illuminated by the backdrop
Of the cherry tree
Telling me how long 
I’ve been sitting here
Since the day the war began
Lying wounded and shell-shocked
Months ago on my pillow
Craning my neck hesitantly
To peer out at the cherry picking
Birds up high buried in leaves
Listening to little voices squeal
Mouths filled with red juices
Delighting eating low hanging fruit.
More recently sitting strong, erect
Arms opening wide the curtains
To feast my eyes 
On the kaleidoscope 
Of fiery leaves still attached
And glowing in the light
As the sun hurriedly sets.
The coolness of the window
View icy grey branches 
Dew upon the buds 
That wait in vain for the frozen
Months to pass.
Teased endlessly by a
Weak winter sun bare lee
Shining on their old
And twisted frame
I feel much the same.
Old inside but 
Growing wise to not
Allow the inevitable
Changing seasons to
Dominate my own
Mind’s window view
Instead, I rely upon You.
To fight my battles with the
Endless foes apply the balm 
to shrapnel woes
Batten down the mind’s 
Battle cry and send the 
Warning salvo’s high.
Relent, relent, face me till
All life is spent.

One thought on “The day the war began

  1. Thank you for letting us into this. The days before seem unreal, but not half so much as those that come after. I think I feel a tiny part of your journey. Thank you for letti g us in.

    Liked by 1 person

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