Poem: Reconciliation

–Walt Whitman

Word over all, beau­ti­ful as the sky,
Beau­ti­ful that war and all its deeds of car­nage must in time be
        utter­ly lost,
That the hands of the sis­ter Death and Night incessantly
        soft­ly wash again, and
ever again, this soil’d world;
For my ene­my is head, a man divine as myself is dead,
I look where he lies white-faced and still in the cof­fin — I draw
Bend down and touch light­ly with my lips the white face in
        the coffin.

Cyn is Rick's wife, Katie's Mom, and Esther & Oliver's Mémé. She's also a professional geek, avid reader, fledgling coder, enthusiastic gamer (TTRPGs), occasional singer, and devoted stitcher.
Posts created 4255

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