Blood Red Moon

Night sky to the moon does yield
to the very same ancient moon
that shone on the battlefield.
It saw the weeping, weary soldier
holding his brother as he kneeled.
It saw on his face the wash of tears
that has lasted in memory for years.

It shone on the winter at Valley Forge.
It did see the battlefields with blood gorge,
And it saw the dying on the icy ground
as the soldiers fired round after round.
Did it catch the cries of the wounded lying
and hear the crying for the loved ones dying?
Did it hope that at last with freedom won
this war would really be the very last one?
It, in silence, hoping, just kept shining on.

It did see brother against brother
in a Civil War terrible as no other.
At the Little Big Horn did hide its face
because of the life lost in that place.
And how about World War One:
Did it not shine on till war was done?
We sent almost every mother's son;
What a celebration when war was won,
It was glad to shine upon that one.

And even during World War Two
its shining light kept on true.
Just another war, what could it do?
Then came Korea and Vietnam
and it hid it's face before shining on.
The crosses grow, row upon row,
Its gleam does reflect off them so.
Now it shows it's light in Afghanistan
To see more battles in a foreign land.

Why must we forever constantly war?
Have we not learned anything before?
The moon it seems will always endure,
watching that which we say we abhor,
but engage in just as careless as before.
The moon has been there since before time.
It shone on the earth when it was sublime.
Reflects to us its pure white light and so
Earth sends back battles blood red glow.
©Faye Sizemore August 5 2002

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