love is a battlefield

“What makes the green grass grow!”

love is a battlefield
and i am sick of war
let us make peace
let love be free of battle
let love be a field
a field of wildflower
a field of amber waves
a field to roll in
picnic blankets
and dancing youths

love is a battlefield
but why?
lay down your armor
lay down the spear
lay down the rulebook
lay down

but not to me
to love
to this field

sunlight and gentle rains
make the green grass grow.
flowers lend purpose to the wind
thought turns amber waves to flour
and flour to bread
and love brings the bread to the field
the field of wildflowers

and love breeds the youth
that dance in the field
among the flowers
with a picnic blanket
tied around neck
wooden swords swinging wild
and free
war… a distant memory

if love must be a battlefield
let us change the picture
let youth win
fall on wooden sword
and give life to the greatest
scene of an agonizing death
that youth demands

for even in this world it is easy
for even in this world a field
is just a field
until we name it
and give it purpose

dance with me in the field
wooden swords and sunlight
and let us remember
the hero that has fallen

she was born a hero
and we knew her legend before we knew her name
we saw her first in the eyes all around us
we saw her in the flesh of the first person we loved

then we knew her sting
venom in our own heart
we knew that she vanquished
that her glory was bought with pain
yet her name lingers on our tongues

if this field is named in her honor
what will you remember
what baggage will you bring
i wait, with picnic basket
and wooden sword
let us toast her memory
and hope the hero returns
to save us all


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