The same white clouds,
the stuff of wispy filaments framed in blue
float o’er my head in quietude.
And soar above bright sunflower fields
flower heads tilted to the sky
in warm rays that beam on me.
And witness from above
far away killing fields
acres of blood with heads askew
eyes frozen grotesque in pain.
These same sentinel clouds,
all seeing
all knowing
how can that be?
I love “sentinel clouds” – great phrase.
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Love that word too! Likeminded wordsmiths! 😊
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Ah Lillian,
I often ponder the very same while sky gazing, though never quite as poetically. War and peace under the same heaven – our human paradox.
Beautiful poignant piece.
am:)
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So glad you like it. Human paradox indeed.
Sometimes I feel this way when at the ocean too….who else is dipping their feet in this vast “same” water?!
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We all live under the same sky! 🙂
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Amen to that!
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