“The End of the war” by maria walton

The End of the War
Skeins of thoughts

entangle me

in razor-barbed-wire

and quicksand—


I’m a P.O.W. in my own mind.


When, in a moment

of cease-fire and 

divine grace,

on the crest

of the ridge,—

like a river

on the wind,—

or a quasi-

murmuration,—


I lift the gaze

to witness the heraldry—

A skein of wild geese

that releases me—

with their wild and jubilant, 

corporeal cries of sweet and

glorious freedom.

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