Field of Onions

the infamous cruel

ruthless

teacher

inflicting twinge

and trouble

peeling our skin

layer by

 layer

exposing an endless

field of onions…

bygone years

intertwine

forlorn tears;

the grand

mariner

steers his red-orange

horizon

of floating memories

as far as the eye can see…

our prayer trumpets,

‘Let not history repeat

its indifferent gloom,

lest we forget

what we’d endured;

that it

shall not return

to wake us

from that which

 we deem

inerrant.’

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