1988

The skies, cloud-girt and cold
On a dark December day, are
No sanctuary, but instead speeding
Through the wintered air comes
Death, a flame of agony, and
Metal snow, crashing to earth,
Meteoric in descent, and undiscerning
In landing where it fell.
And years pass, and still we
Remember that day, when the heavens
Rejected the invader, when
The evil ones won, and the
Innocent paid the price.
And years pass, and we do not
Learn from history, all those who
Died did so in vain, for it
All happens again and
Again and again and again.

(c) 2ndwitch, 21/12/16