Fire Power

Remembering November's Dead

and fireworks fleece the night again;

dazzling jewels of light to soothe some pagan fear.

Dark - 

the dread misdeeds of Nature’s god,

Spark - 

the glistering, crystalline golden rain.

Refiguring the skies of bloody war

these fireworks fall,

while poppies strew the ground,

and thunderous claps

and booming cannonades

refrain the fearful rhetoric of sound.

Airball, Banger, Bee or Bengal flare,

Turbillions, and Catherine wheels alight;

but Exocet, Sidewinder, Little Joe,

Polaris, Popeye, Patriot, in guided flight;

Gadfly, Grumble, Gremlin, Gecko, Grail –

prepare to bounce or breach or flame: to kill.

Rockets, Roman candles, Tadpole Tail –

innocent phosphorous lights reflecting breath: to thrill.

We, upward crane our necks,

our flashing eyes,

and we anticipate

the glorious sight,

but elsewhere

others suffer consequence

of fearful lies

and must deal with

great destruction

on this night.

Can we fight for peace, or can we not?

Shall we not take up arms?

Is peace forgot?