Gary Jacobson

THE HILL

There is a hill so far away
Entwined mid tangle-wood greenery
Nourished by battle’s blood
Knotty corkscrews fed by the brotherhood
Matted by life’s dew, jungle forces careen
Ensnaring boys betwixt and between
Battling up
The hill rising abrupt
Gaining ground
What have we found in sweet awful sound

Above the din hear still their cries
Visions of death passing before young eyes
Falling back down in loss of innocence
Paying terribly in lasting penance
For a short life of hate infernal
Fiery passing the eternal
Salvoes rain accursed from above
Abominably doomed without peace and love
An ending
Back to the beginning…

What have we gained
As devastating artillery rained
What on the hill have we lost
On mound of blood tempest tossed
Surreal peace
Demise or increase…
As we crest the summit
To death’s pit plummet
Left behind feast or famine
That a young boy’s heart gladden…

O, the sage on ethereal summit knows
Eternity’s friend or foes
Sees below dreadful clash
Men enlaced in battle’s bestial rash
Felling enemies by birth sworn
Fighting battles of brotherhood shorn
Combatant pros
Who in a twinkling chose
To march with sinister might
Entrapped in dire life or death fight

Men going where only ghosts of men gather
Mount the final attack with combat’s brother
Humping utopian heights
Going where the eternal soul egregiously bites
Bridging hadean woes along bunkered ridgeline rows
Awaiting divine judgments pristine prose
Mid battle ambiguities
Animosities
Lighting the beauty of days morning
Till darkness mourning…

This day His hand will choose who lives… who dies
In war’s snarled tangle-wood of lies…