After every war
someone has to clean up.
Things won't
straighten themselves up, after all.
Someone has to push the rubble
to the side of the road,
so the corpse-filled wagons
can pass.
Someone has to get mired
in scum and ashes,
sofa springs,
splintered glass,
and bloody rags.
Someone has to drag in a girder
to prop up a wall,
Someone has to glaze a window,
rehang a door.
Photogenic it's not,
and takes years.
All the cameras have left
for another war.
We'll need the bridges back,
and new railway stations.
Sleeves will go ragged
from rolling them up.
Someone, broom in hand,
still recalls the way it was.
Someone else listens
and nods with unsevered head.
But already there are those nearby
starting to mill about
who will find it dull.
From out of the bushes
sometimes someone still unearths
rusted-out arguments
and carries them to the garbage pile.
Those who knew
what was going on here
must make way for
those who know little.
And less than little.
And finally as little as nothing.
In the grass that has overgrown
causes and effects,
someone must be stretched out
blade of grass in his mouth
gazing at the clouds.
________________________________
Reaction: Surprising and the last two stanzas surprised me even more and the ending left me confused.
Meaning: I believe the end of the war has to do with ourselves and how we fight for something. For example, students every year will have (most likely) at least one teacher they hate. They may view that current class as a "war zone". When the school year ends, so does the war. But during the summer, that student has time to celebrate but also needs time to pick up pieces before September comes. Then when the new school year comes, the student may have a very good teacher or another bad teacher. So I believe, depending what we consider a "war zone" we have to be taught that someday it will end, but we will always have to clean it up.
Techniques: free verse
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