Battles

• Stephanie Powell, Grade 5
• Poetry
• 2010

Strangled cries echo through the still night air. Blood-curdling screams pierce the darkness.
It is pain.

Gunshots, torturing every victim. Swords, cutting into all available flesh.
It is war.

Tangled thoughts of wives and children. Crushed hopes of victory; and winning.
It is life.

Ruby-red blood flows from gaping wounds. Limp bodies are strewn all over the accursed plains.
It is death.

Sorrow is poured out through tears. Anguish, turned to misery through broken hearts.
They are feelings.

A terrible shaking penetrates every body before perfect stillness. The sun blackens over the battlefield.

It is the end.