Red and Black

The thunder of the guns rattle,
the red is shed in battle,
and in the folded flag for families,
in the surviving soldier's psyche,
running in conscious streams,
and awakening dreams
of their sorrowed countrymen,
in wars our youth have died again.

In our hearts the black of so
much young life reposes,
the funeral processions as we
hold ebony roses.
Deep grief's pain in our chest,
as we weep mourning our best. ~