Do you still fight the last battle lost?
Night after day, day after night?
Do you still fight the last battle won?
Day after night, night after day?
And will you fight your battle from loss?
Night before day, day before night?
And will you fight your battle from triumph?
Day before night, night before day?
The battleground is lost
A cool breeze bends a red field of poppies.
Postscript
This poem watches the mind continue a conflict after the conflict has ended. Loss and victory both become traps when the self keeps returning to them for orientation. The repeated turns of night and day suggest a cycle that cannot be solved by winning again or grieving better. The final image releases the argument into weather: the battleground remains, but it no longer belongs to the battle. It has become a field, moved by a breeze.
Image Credit
Image: Red poppy field, licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.
Primitive Joe 
