The buildings tower above the old farm lands, dull prisons of forgotten dreams. Dreams we once fought for, dreams we once died for lie neglected and abandoned like the concrete pillars on which the city stands.
Here on the hill, overlooking it all, I see the end of the green. The wall lies behind me, a memorial to long forgotten soldiers. Where is the memorial to the rest of us? Those left behind with the great holes in our lives, left to stumble blindly through the tragedy of loss, sacrificed to the naked stupidity of war.
A dark empty wall
robbed of joyful memory
only names remain
For Haibun Monday on dVerse Poets
Til next time ~Peace – always peace ~JPP
Crone and Curmudgeon 
A heartfelt evocation of the other side of honoring the fallen. How do we honor their survivors? You haiku accents your prose beautifully. Thank you for joining us! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much Frank, having lost loved ones in the Vietnam war, I have strong sympathies for the families of loss. Thank you for hosting this important topic.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure! Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
A very powerful poem, JP. Well-said.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, the plight of “Fallen Hero Families” has always been near to my heart.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good point. For every name on the wall somewhere there is a family, broken and grieving at the loss of a bright young future. So sad.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much. I think those families are truly unsung heros they carry on in the face of brutal loss.
LikeLike