White Flag

A poem by Meg Sorick*

It’s a war of attrition
When the cease fire is ordered
No one knows who gave the command
The result is a stalemate
Neither side can claim victory
Even though both will
And as the soldiers wearily lay down their weapons,
Trudge, exhausted from the field
Someone raises a white flag on the line
Amidst the rubble
When the smoke clears
There is nothing but devastation
As far as the eye can see

*This piece was originally a second stanza to the poem I posted a couple weeks ago: The Last Scene. I separated the two, even though the theme is the same, the structure was different. At some point I may reconstruct both parts into one poem … if I can figure it out. Because this is not about war, and The Last Scene is not about theater, they are allegorical. I feel like there needs to be another concluding stanza as well. Poetical insights welcome.

~The illustration is my own~

Circles

I’m angry and I’m wild
Spinning round and round in circles

It’s the moon, it’s the sun
And it’s everything in between

I’m running and I’m fleeing
But I haven’t moved an inch

It’s the minutes, it’s the hours
As I’m losing precious time

And I’m struggling, I’m flailing
But the shackles hold my feet

Above me circling, circling
The vast expanse of stars

It makes me weary, makes me tired
And I’ve never felt so small

By Meg Sorick, March 15, 2017 (Header Image: Circles in a Circle – Vasily Kandinsky, 1923)