The Gods Of War (Poetry)

Who knows the faceless gods of war ? —
they live a world away
in valleys too obscure to search
and caves too dark to say.

They mutter in dead languages
despise all living things —
those creatures crawling through a night
where only hope has wings.

Hear the hollow echoes bouncing
from the mountain’s blackened wall
where the mist hangs thick as hatred
and the cold would kill us all

for the weather has no favourites
sending winds that chill and moan
and the frightened, weary soldiers
say their prayers to the unknown.

When a lull comes in the fighting
they still write their letters home
determined to be cheerful
in that fractured twilight zone.

Then another bullet whistles
and another heart goes still
and a mother screams her agony
and questions Allah’s will

while the death toll goes on rising
and such prayers are all denied
for the pleas for peace can’t make it
now blood river’s flooded wide.

The old gods of war grow deafened
by the anger of the guns
thus wives will lose their husbands
and more fathers lose their sons

until some fateful morning
when there’s no one living left
and the only voice to triumph
will be the god of Death.

Those rows and rows of crosses
will lean and look forlorn
with not one soul to tend them
and no new babies born.

The cruel kings of chaos threaten —
they bicker loud and cuss
high time to strip their power
before our world is dust.

Pick up the peaceful banner
throw down the rusting sword
and topple every temple of
those evil gods of war.