Maybe there's a
good excuse for fighting;
Every era has its righteous wars.
Maybe wrongs require bloody righting,
Or self-defense gives warriors just cause.
Remember, though, the legacy of pain,
Intense and passionate, a world of wounds,
Agony unveiled again, again,
Livid in the light of lonely rooms.
Death is a relief, but think of those
Alive with grief, whose loved ones lie in rows,
Youth on youth in neat, well-ordered