Where Roam the Ghosts of War

WHERE ROAM THE GHOSTS OF WAR

By A. Garcia-Wiltse

In a place of lonely solitude – reflecting unmoving and unfeeling memories and dreams – simply images in a broken mirror that reveal the unmasked face of time – in flashes of moments and of seasons lived – and of that final agony of sensation, realization and submission – when time stopped and darkness consumed the senses, the emotions, the commotions that surrounded and astounded the panicking imagination and the fearful expectation of human comprehension.

And in that moment of awareness is where roam the ghosts of war.  Forever forged into the scheme of time, and into broken hearts and mournful minds of those they loved and left behind – without one last goodbye – one last embrace.  Lost among the corridors of time – unable to let go the moment – unwilling to embrace the inevitable fate of being – mortality – at a time, in a place, in a way – without assent, without consent, without reason, without purpose – other than to have been a victim of wars devised and designed to defeat, to conquer, to vanquish -- the spirit, the passion, the virtue -- of innocence that threatens and imperils the power and control of coercion, extortion, intimidation and oppression. 

In the heart, the mind, the very soul of every man – exists an untouched field of dreams -- where roam the ghosts of war – afraid to let go for fear that war may come to be the answer and final solution – instead of the dissolution of hope, and of moments and of seasons where blossom the innocence of being -- and where the ghosts of war can find the peace denied – the serenity deprived.

Where roam the ghosts of war – where dare walk the innocent and the brave – and where forever lingers the promise of what might have been – but which war consumes without regret of what could have been.