I went back to the Oracle, chose another word set, hoping for something more hopeful.

something is,
perhaps everything,

even eternity will be haunted
by the ghosts of men
with their sharpened steel,
their sacred causes,
ideas carved in the stone of their hearts.

What does it take
to wake the sleeping voices,
unlock the secrets that all other things know?

Words the wild knows without speaking?

The air is blue, they say,
the sky, the planet,
but all I see is red,
and we walk in the footprints
of the god of war.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

8 thoughts on “Mars”

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