The Eternal War

• Shauna Dias, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2011

The storm brewed; rhapsodical & dark. An arena for the battle in creation. A repetition of the past.
You shatter & grow numb; the life in you has slipped away, & the death of you has fallen again.
The storms surged & the seas heaved; rhapsodical & dark.
And then, like the eye of a storm, an eerie calm instills you; & silence.
The chatter has ceased, & you are the embodiment of a living death.
The eye of the storm is passing; & the voices start again.
And your body starts to tingle; the life in you to flourish again.
The rage of the storm encases you; a battlefield afresh.
Though then, the last tear of rain has fallen, the clouds slip away, a light unravels; a blissful calm.
The battle is neither lost nor won. And like the storm, it comes and goes.
And just like a storm, there is always the end, no matter how rough the seas were.
And so the battle had raged and the battle hath ceased.
You think, ‘oh how dreaded this storm must be?’ But look in the mirror; look deep into your eyes,
See the clash of the swords & the cries of the wounded. The battle is in you. It is the self versus the self.
The battle is within your soul; the Mind versus the Heart.
A battle always to be fought, yet never to be won.