Simple gifts

Many people go out in war but very few return and they remain lost to their families.

Our bodies gone beneath the soil
our spirits lost above the pain,
we roam the land in endless paths
as time slips by undisturbed.

The grass no longer grows
in the bomb cratered land,
where souls of the lost
are abundant in the sand.

But a single flower has bloomed
in a sea of silent sand,
and it stands proud and upright,
while its white petals glowed
while suns harsh rays
refuse its shadow.

We cannot help
the delicate life
which has sprung forth
where there is great strife,
where death is only known.

But in death we are blessed,
for forgotten were we,
at the end of centuries past.
Forgotten by all
until life came at last.