Photo of the Great War

Suzanne Morris

March 1, 2022

  – from The American Heritage History of World War I, a century removed

So this is where it ends:

Not with graying dignitaries

in stiff white collars

and frock coats

seated around a table neath

a gilded, frescoed ceiling

one May afternoon,

signing pens in hand;

not with bright medals pinned

upon thrusting generals

who lived to write

memoirs waxing blameless

of their sins.

But here, on an unmarked field

strewn with dead bodies

of prime young men.

How peaceful they seem,

stretched out upon the hay

neath scumbled clouds

too tired even to remove

frayed boots from blistered feet

limbs curled up or flung out

in abandon to

their first decent sleep

since the war began.

Sh...quiet...

softly whispers the wind,

to a column

of tall poplars

standing sentinel,

and haystacks plump

as grandmothers cross-stitching

prayers back home.

Their memoirs?

Penned with

disappearing ink upon

each nation’s soul.

Oh, the kisses and

bouquets tossed

on your parade

brave, hopeful youth 

in sepia tone enshrined

in frames of gold. 

But now within 

this dusty book

we turn a certain page

and there’s the end, 

in center spread:

the sum of  

what you gave.

Sh...quiet...

softly whispers the wind

it’s their first decent sleep

since the war began.                            

A novelist with eight published works spanning forty years, Suzanne Morris now focuses largely on writing poems. Her poetry is included in the anthology, No Season for Silence - Texas Poets and Pandemic (Kallisto GAIA Press, 2020). Examples have also appeared in Texas Poetry Assignment and The New Verse News.