Guernica, Unveiled

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 06, 2018

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Submitted: August 06, 2018

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A bull, a half-chewed corpse, a sinking horse

A bulb, a half-phantom, an ascending light

 

Sharp chaos gores limbs, blurs

Violence between species,

Wrenches mother from child,

Desaturates multihued life.

 

Death is monochromatic.

 

His sword drips grey, grey smothers the tortured earth.

Overlapping deaths and mangled lines pierce eyes and hearts.

Yet, tubers bud, pushing through monotony and aftermath.

Suspended hope above fallen soldier, hope of colour.

 

Wisdom through suffering alone.

 

Suffer. You, suffer. A stunned-to-silence audience gasps,

A woman weeps in muffles. Black and white grotesques, we are in the warzone.

How are we still repulsed by flowing blood when it is not red?

Still the blackened anguish of a horse at near-death strikes at our humanity

 

Rage against a haunted wasteland, this is the way the world begins

When the mother’s tears have washed away the bloody corpses,

And the horse’s whinnies have silenced the explosion’s thunder,

We may finally see in colour, lively colour


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