There Will Always

Be Butterflies

There always will be butterflies,
blue skies, and cactus blooms
with sweet perfumes in Mays, and Junes, 
from flowers freshly bloomed.

plus soft warm eyes, and heavenly sighs 
from lovers passions swooned,
emerging from the darkness, 
of our world's blackest cocoons.

In all the midst of horrors, 
wars and daily duels with death,
God sends us lovely little things, 
to help us catch our breath.

Deep down in trenches dug in zones
of battle, beauty creeps,
like tiny flowered lichens, 
in the damp where soldiers sleep.

When bullets fly white birds disturbed 
take wing to flee the hate
come mourning doves warm, nested eggs 
of new life from their mates.

All soldiers see so much they've missed
before they went to war,
a hundred thousand reasons why,
their life's' worth living for.

No matter how much madness reigns,
small lovelies will live on,
when smoke is cleared, and ceasefires called,
the birds still sing at dawn.

I still remember hearing, 
all the sounds that nature made,
while squatting in a quiet glade,
preparing to invade.

I wondered then why grown men cry,
or kneel in awe before,
it's time to take another life.
to fuel the costs of war,

I think most likely it's because,
their sharpened senses see,
such beauty round a killing quest, 
they wish they could let be.

Then orders screamed, send booted feet
across the grass to crush,
the tiny flowers, and young lives
in a desperate heated rush.

There always will be butterflies
blue skies, and cactus blooms
and flowers laid on soldiers graves

to mark their early tombs.

Art~Whimsically yours Studio

Matthew F. Blowers III-(c)-2016