Poetry

What no longer haunts me are: 
the shrills of munitions 
dropped onto a suspecting city 
night after night, cold defilades 
on a desolate highway, and 
the smell of rotten air. 
  
What no longer haunts me are: 
the caved skulls of mother´s sons 
no different from me, and the dead 
torn apart in the pink mist 
they never asked for. 
  
What no longer haunts me are: 
feelings beyond hate; emptiness, 
because if we could not put a bullet 
in someone´s head those pretty ribbons 
meant nothing. 
                                 -That man passed away years sgo 
the day he found the courage to politely say "no more" 
and learned it is better to reach out your hand 
and never let go.