Meet me at the chaos tide
Where the rivers run red.
Where the blood shed for innocence
Flows out to the sea.
For at the chaos tide;
Hidden by the thunder of explosion
And the lights of tracer fire.
We shall desert this battlefield
In our longing to be free.
We shall sail upon the chaos tide
Like generations have before
Immortalised for an act of futility,
Believing slaughter could end all war.
We shall make cannon song our lullaby,
Fashion our pillows out of mud.
We will do our dying quietly
As the blood flows to the sea.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 
Please share this in week 37’s “Write to Cope” prompt. Here’s the direct link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/wepawblog/permalink/3795421147155122/
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