War

• Katrina Saunders, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2018

The sun, like molten gold,
poured from the clear blue furnace of the sky.
The wind, like a forgotten song the angels sing to pass the time.
The rain, like the shed tears of weeping mothers,
awaiting the sons that would never return.
The snow, like the swirling grey ashes of hearts and lungs burned.

The stars, like the drifting presence of half a million fireflies.
The dirt, like the dried blood,
crusting the seams of closed eyes.
The water, like a river of liquid fire,
across the face of a faceless man.
The night, like the awakening beast from which it all began.