An old friend leaves and huge sheaves of
past move back in time; nostalgia aside it
is immense relief, space again and peace
of mind from events half remembered like
a reprieve in face of accusation’s hammer,
debate never forgotten, allegation-preyed
wounds spent raw by yesterday’s eternity,
and there’s little sanctuary left to ease
blesses us, as ever did comrades-in-arms
and intent, war-worn but brave soldiers of
the same fate; sure - disagreed on details
here and there - wouldn’t be who we were
if it didn’t - but I won’t live in that past
denied - free to find comfort of a few older
guys who’ve found their ways - yes, we’re
mates, always will be; guess he’s relieved
to argue with me still without prejudice, or
is it me who’s losing the place...
© 17 October 2013, I. D. Carswell
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