The war was over long ago.
Discarded, engine rusted.
There are flowers now, Where men fought.
Watered by the blood of brave men and fools.
My aim is true, no longer.
Barrel fallen and powerless.
I, forgotten sentry,
From a world that was once burning.
There are flowers now,
Where once was only mud.
Armor, melted by fire and steel
Hotter than the flight of Icarus.
The ridge ahead, marred, now green.
Grass covered and silent,
The cannons evaporated.
No tanks should tread among these flowers.
The world quaked at my roar.
But that was long ago.
There has been too much pain.
My final task,
To guard the flowers
That men may war no more.
About Jeremy Weeks Joyner
Jeremy Weeks Joyner is a poet, philosopher and ordained minister. He lives in central North Carolina.