The great march
To all those stains of black left behind.
THE GREAT MARCH.
Whiteness blinds my sight
So white, it hurts my eyes
Just follow the one in front
How strange, I don’t feel the cold anymore
Endless white
No time to look around
Ice can trick your stomach and make you feel full
While your body slowly eats its own
Too far from home
Stranded as one
Feeling lost
Onward we go
Screams going back and forth
Some say “Forward we go”
Others yell “I can’t go on”
Whiteness surround us all.
Are we really going home?
Or is this some kind of sick joke?
God only knows
How far we can go on.
Can we find solace in this white hell?
Is the place I call home still there?
"March! Move on!" Is all I can hear
Stains on an impeccable white landscape
walking endlessly.
Those slumbering
Flirt with death
If I could only make them see
Don’t close your eyes on me
We must continue marching to be free.
This short poem was inspired by a meaningful conversation that I had with an Italian WW2 veteran while in my teens. If you want to read more about his experience, check my story called "Whiteness blinds my sight."
Here is the link:
https://vocal.media/01/whiteness-blinds-my-sight
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About the Creator
Giovanni Profeta
Swimming through life one stroke at a time.
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