How was war?

I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been.

I wouldn’t know, I’ve never become.

How was I supposed to know myself?

I had never been to war, and war I’d never become.

How was war?

You asked me too many years later, 

And I didn’t know. I only listened half-heartedly to the news

And half-heartedly read Dear's letter from the battlefield.

How was war?

Where men burned life to dust.

How was war?

When I was falling apart without it, 

I couldn’t know.

I had never been and I had never become. 

How was war?

The news I did not want to hear, 

The letters weren’t mine to read.

I was not born into war.

I read about it all, night after day, day after night.

The silent wars, the non-violent wars.

Wars fought by your country 

And wars fought in mine.

How was war? 

I didn’t know. I’d never been.

I could not know. I’d never become.

I had never been and I had never become.

I had never fought and I had never become.

I had never died and I had never lived.

All I knew was a simple, simple thing.

Each moment I spent breathing, 

Each word I read, 

Each drop of water I drank, 

Each grain of food I ate, 

I was at war with a world of my own making.

Each moment I spent living, 

Each moment I spent alive, 

Each moment I was at war, completely, thoroughly, miserably, gladly.

It was not a war of gunpowder and blood, 

It was a war between day and night.

War between water and wine.

War between sun and moon.

War between rosemary and thyme.

War between green and blue.

War between thee and thine.