Slaughter Circle

300 year old Oak Trees at Oak Alley Plantation Louisianna

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The scent of death
lingers for years
in a place

lodges in the soil
rots
and slowly compresses

composting down
deep down
in dirt

the earth turns
and the seasons pass
time and space and silence

until the coiling roots
draw back again
and all that grows

from baby’s tears
to blood red poppies
oaks and elms

bear testimony
to the forgotten
dead.
© M.L.Emmett

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1 Comment

Filed under Death, Poem, War

One response to “Slaughter Circle

  1. I really like how you and structure and embed meaning… respect 🙂

    Like

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