Poem: Museum of Lost Battles


Museum of Lost Battles

Everywhere there is rubble.
Charred beams stand where walls do not.
Bricks litter the ground.
The sun and the rain fall
in places best left protected.

This is what hate does,
how anger, inflamed creates war zones
out of sanctuaries,
determined to end the beautiful things
once loved, and with an intimacy no enemy
could be aware of, snipe your most vulnerable places,
crumble your walls,
render you rubble,
a war zone, a museum of lost battles.

You were always beautiful.
You still are
for your beauty lies beneath,
in your foundations,
left alone by a foe who never looked
beyond the walls

About this poem

I bet you know someone like this. Perhaps you are someone like this. You are beautiful.



  1. Thank you Tom…this is so timely and from God’s lips. I was just admitting to myself last night of my hate, yes hate, and sense of betrayal and must be unforgiveness I’m harboring deep in my heart for 2 past loves. I don’t want it to live there even though it’s silent most of the time. I am becoming more aware that it affects my life and the way I view it now. Prayers please.

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