What Remains Of War

Poetry

After the hard-fought battle, a war cry sounded into the moonless night while fires burned around me. I looked up into that starlit oblivion with bloodshot eyes as the weight finally left my shoulders. It was done. We prevailed. At long last, I could rest. As my sword slipped from my ragged fingers, my legs gave out and I was no more.

© Sarah Doughty

51 thoughts on “What Remains Of War

      1. he is my youngest son and it is no fun when daily he calls me mean things. but i did to my folks so karma has come home to roost. but your writing is noire and very very good!

        Liked by 2 people

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.