warriors & words

Have been pondering strong women lately.  Have so many among my acquaintance to admire; whether for their mad mothering skills or kick-ass career maneuverings or walking quietly through chemo.  Their strength is worth of some kind of awe.  Also stand amazed at my gentle teens who have chosen to fly far away from home, around the globe, to study courses in a second or third language.  Brave souls. 

If I were not so tired, I would write a clever tie-in between that and the war poetry which I've chosen for today's reading, but I will leave that to the reader's brain power.  It has something to do with being a warrior:  

[wawr-ee-er, noun] a person who shows or has shown great vigor and/or courage.

When the war is over
We will be proud of course the air will be
Good for breathing at last
The water will have been improved the salmon
And the silence of heaven will migrate more perfectly
The dead will think the living are worth it we will know
Who we are
And we will all enlist again

"When the War is Over" by W.S. Merwin, from The Lice.

 There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pool singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

~Sara Teasdale

And in a completely random segue, today is 11/11/11!  Must be auspicious for something!