recounting history
the torch may fade from time to time
may flicker like a pilot’s light
disappearing over the sea
below the surface the torch
resumes its glow
likely to be found by henchmen
digging foxholes
beware the silence
they warned
lifting their torches
and charging a newfound
enemy with fiery explosions
in the aftermath smoldering fires
resurrect memories of old promises
feeding those who hunger
rebuilding what was destroyed
as new histories emerge new
generations evolve
securing the torches in submerged silos
believing that without peace
all the yesterdays of the world
added up to nothing
november two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
If ever we could learn.. if ever.. wonderful John.
If ever indeed – thanks so much, Björn.
Seriously good, John, really.
Thank you very much, Kathleen – so glad you think so!
Great poem
Thank you so much