Blood-soaked Ground

A cycle of poems «Your Wounds Are Deep»

The wind whispers low through the fields of gray
Where poppies refuse to bloom, turned the wrong way
The sun hangs heavy, a bruised and weary eye
And the earth beneath is stained, beneath a crimson sky

Blood-soaked ground, a silent, screaming plea
A tapestry of sorrow, for all the world to see
Each drop a memory, a life cut down in haste
A hollow victory, in this barren, broken space

The echoes linger, of the battle's brutal roar
The clang of steel, the fallen, wanting more
The cries of anguish, a phantom in the breeze
Rustling through the branches of the skeletal trees

Blood-soaked ground, a silent, screaming plea
A tapestry of sorrow, for all the world to see
Each drop a memory, a life cut down in haste
A hollow victory, in this barren, broken space

Can forgiveness blossom from this poisoned soil?
Can hope take root where pain has taken its toll?
Or are we doomed to repeat this tragic dance,
Forever bound to this sorrowful expanse?

The rain falls softly, washing away the grime
But the darkness lingers, stealing back with time
The names are etched in stone, a cold and somber list
Of souls surrendered, caught in fate's cruel fist

Blood-soaked ground, a silent, screaming plea
A tapestry of sorrow, for all the world to see
Each drop a memory, a life cut down in haste
A hollow victory, in this barren, broken space

Oh, blood-soaked ground, will you ever know peace?
Will the cries subside, will the suffering cease?
We stand here humbled, in this sacred, mournful scene
Praying for a future, where fields are forever green.