That sad lament flickering through her day
Buried deep, but not deep enough
Folded flag, a reminder of the love never returned
Death the escape, but still the prisoner
Married to the ego
Maybe both
The beauty queen, ugly inside
She heard the words. One ego, that’s a bang. Two egos, that’s an explosion.
He would wait for her; he liked her ugly side
How did he know the ending
She didn’t know, and she was living it
The flag, the medals, the shiny crown
He threw his medals into the river, went back to his old life
She didn’t understand how he could do that
He was part of it
They were all part of it
She was kidding herself
Like the crown that defined her
Living on memories
Waiting out time
She wanted life
The war hero’s widow
They would put that on her gravestone
She began to understand him now
He was free
He’d won his war
Now he was waiting for her to win hers
Her own freedom
The sun was shining the day she handed the flag and medals to his mum
The walk over the bridge would finally set her free
The crown didn’t make much of a splash
No bang, no explosion
Just so much more
He liked her ugly side
She liked that just fine.
-
Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 30th, 2026 04:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Teddy.15, Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments3
I take this Paul as a metaphoric/real poem where the incidents fall within reality but the multiple contradictions are a metaphor. He went back to his old life after throwing his medals in the river yet she a war hero's widow. It is the double edge in this poem that cuts both ways it creates an incision large enough to explore the internal and external the real and imagined the yesterday and the today and tomorrow. This poem the more I read it the better it gets. A fave Paul for the fine nuances planted in it
Yeah, even the fallout of war brings its own tragedy for the living trying to move on.
It does indeed even when buried
I see a mum without her son, medals that even though showed great courage and the will to fight for the freedom of others, has lead a mother to be trapped in grief, and holding just the medals. Such a heartfelt and dignified piece. 🌹
Who needs war, it only kills the young.
Paul, this is devastating in its quietness. It doesn’t dramatize loss…it lets it unfold, heavy and human, until freedom finally feels possible. The emotional gravity here is immense. Powerful, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Sometimes the end is the real story.
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