Thurman P. Woodfork
I remember a Silence, once,
When the guns ceased to roar…
But, alas, that silence had
nothing to do with the
ending of a war.
It was but a brief cease fire,
a traditional holiday truce,
while we sang Ancient Songs
and decorated a spruce.
The next day, the guns were
back in full-throated thunder;
the peace celebrating a Sacred Birth
was gone – completely ripped asunder.
No more blessed Silence, Old Son,
no more gentle talk of love.
Death stalked gleefully on every side,
and swooped down from above.
You know it don’t mean nuthin’
My Man, so saddle up and be brave…
The only Silence that lasts long here
is the Silence of the Grave.
©Copyright September 14, 2007 by Thurman P. Woodfork
Inspired by the poem, “One Strange Day”
©Copyright September 12, 2007 by Christina A. Sharik