Keep Looking Forward

Martin P. Repetto

Sparks off steel burn through the smoke which

burns my lungs with its acrid taste. 

Around me fires blaze and men shout and women scream and children cry,

And I fight.

I tighten my grip on the weapon that I hold, bracing

Myself to destroy what I hate. I hate them,

They who would destroy me, for I am what they hate.

I don’t know who they are,

 I don’t care to know,

I know that I’m afraid.

The smoke clears, and I am still afraid.

I see my hometown, broken by Them. 

The Invaders,

The Instigators,

 The Embodiment of That Which I Hate.

Covering the streets like leaves in fall 

are the bodies of those slain, their banners and livery now muddied And insignificant. The enemy is dead,

 Along with many others, the victory is ours, though that begs the Question of who we are. 

Now, with the blue skies I know returning, we soldiers begin to search for our own victories.

The Temple has been burned, along with those who sought protection within its holy walls. My lover, my children, my neighbor, my parents, And my Father, 

so wizened by faith,

Now blackened by flame

I walk across the charred ground, up the old, stone steps,

all the way to the ancient belfry, its cast-iron sheen blackened,

with the ashes of my home.

I look across the smoldering town, across the 

Green fields that had been trampled into the mud,

Across the forests chopped down for wood.

I look at the black stacks of smoke from other towns.

I look down at the ground, from

My perch far above it.

I walk back down the old, stone steps, back through the corpses, seeing nothing, until I am reunited with my living fellows.

I look up and see a single white dove,

An unsullied symbol of hope.

I look away.