Lyle McLeod

San Jose, New Mexico

Face Of War

Oh, where go the children of each generation
Whose innocence played at the bordering nation?
Smiles and laughter each little face wore,
But must they change - to the face of war?

We may dream of the hero from trojan shore,
Or, perhaps the mongol in Asian Lore,
Somewhere, distorted, twixt bravery and fear.
Our eyes we shut, - nothing is clear.

What gain has it been through all the tears,
Long suffering and strife for a thousand years?
And, in my mind, I hear once more,
The banshee wail - in the face of war.
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