THE WAR IS OVER…..
By Janice Masters
The war is over,
No battles won,
Or medals pinned.
Just the drooping edges of a misshapen vessel,
Thrown on ego’s potter’s wheel
And unbeknownst, leaking out the dream
That petulantly demanded
Something real and true.
Yes, the war is over,
Breathing comes easy now,
No longer holding blame in the gut,
A hard stone glistening with angry tears.
No bad guys,
Just us chickens here,
Scratching, tripping and
Stumbling toward the light.
If the war is over,
Then what does forgotten freedom feel like
Without disappointment to secret away in
Dim, musty corners,
And self-righteousness to nurse
In broad daylight?
The truth that the war is over
Seeps and drips into my cells,
Filling the thirsty honeycomb.
Let freedom ring,
Through my body,
With gradual sweet acceptance.
© Janice Masters 2015
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