In a dream the guns came out
drowning out the voice of reason
unheard the crying little children
no one cared who fired first.
One side killing all the godless
the other killing all the priests
both were hunting reason’s voices
the middle ground a no-man’s land.
No longer could we hear each other
above the roaring of the guns
listening only to our comrades
true believers in the cause.
And when I saw a little boy
eye his mother as he died
I knew that with him died the nation
my country would exist no more.
In my dream I took a brush
although I knew I could not paint
and on a shattered building’s wall
emerged America’s Guernica.
.
About toritto
I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004.
We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world.
I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday.
I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics.
:-)
toritto 
You captured the timeless spirit of all-out war here, Frank.
Best wishes, Pete.
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I am absolutely floored by this one! What Pete said!
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Thank you Shelby. Best from Florida.
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Frank, we fail to realize how war transforms us as a nation.
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Awesome: Almost every country has a Guernica!
Here is the Irish response:
“Come all ye young rebels, and list while I sing,
For the love of one’s country is a terrible thing.
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame,
And it makes us all part of the patriot game.”
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