'The Awakening'


By
Charles L. East


There comes?
at times?
an insidious awakening
that stirs my soul to memories,
so faint,
intangible,
of past strife and death
?and life?
of glories faded, buried,
as though they never were.

Yet?
I hear the distant drums of war
and the heralding trumpet's muted voices,
and dimly see
a legion of shimmering golden helmets?
their plumes dancing in Sparta's wind.

I feel the blistering sting of cold salt spray
as I behold the failing sun slip quietly
beneath an unforgiving sea.

My life's blood absorbed by the warm sands
of Rome's coliseum?
I am aware
of the fragrance of the Earth
in Flanders field.

There comes?
at times?
an insidious awakening.