Cannons and Fog

It is a museum exhibit. A battlefield.
The fog of war, less the specific battle
as the one you fight inside.
How much is enough?
How much and still have time
to heal your own wounds?
How do you see past the fog
or is it possible or
do you simply keep walking,
cannon fodder in search of a home.

About this poem

About the fog of depression. About the fog of the times we live in, so disrupted with too much news without messages of hope to balance the scales. About not knowing what to do, and no do, when there is so much need. Poetry is never about one thing.

The photograph is from the U.S. Marine Corps museum near Quantico, Virginia.

Tom