Poem - Wreckage

Wreckage

Twisted metal heavily rusted
with sleek lines long worn smooth.
Deadly instruments of war
lay neutered in the fields.

They attacked all those years ago.
We were instant victims,
no hope for victory
in the face of our new masters.

Broken glass
metal sheets
plywood and plastic
our homes now stand.

Into this world I step anew,
called to fight for freedom.
Into the breach I walk,
my Destiny booms aloud.

© 2014. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.