Wings Of Peace

Summary

The web content is a prose poem titled "Wings of Peace" by Bernard Ray, reflecting on the transformation of a wartime airfield into a symbol of peace and freedom, with nature reclaiming the space where war once prevailed.

Abstract

"Wings of Peace" is a contemplative prose poem by Bernard Ray that paints a vivid picture of a former wartime airfield, now silent and overtaken by nature, serving as a poignant reminder of the past. The author, living close to this peacetime flying field, describes the old runways as a concrete memorial to the laborers and soldiers who contributed to the war effort. Amidst the remnants of war, the author emphasizes the importance of peace in today's world. The poem evokes the sacrifices made by those who worked and died at the airfield, enabling the author's current freedom to write. As the author walks the runway, he feels the emotional echoes of the past but finds solace in the present when a formation of geese flies overhead, their wings whispering 'peace' into the air.

Opinions

The author believes that the word 'peace' carries significant weight and relevance in the context of current global tensions.
There is a sense of reverence for the physical remnants of the airfield, viewing them as a testament to the hard work and lives lost during wartime.
The poem suggests a deep personal gratitude from the author towards the individuals who toiled at the airfield, as their efforts have provided the freedom the author now enjoys.
Nature's reclamation of the airfield, with plantains, mosses, and lichens growing over the runways, is seen as a healing process, eroding the scars of war.
The author draws a parallel between the geese flying in a V-formation and the planes that once flew over the airfield, symbolizing the transition from war to peace.
The work of Jo Lovatt is recommended by the author, suggesting a shared appreciation for poetic reflection on historical themes.

A prose poem

Image by the author © Bernard Ray

I live not far from a wartime airfield. Now used for peacetime flying. The old runways stand as a concrete memorial to those who laboured to lay them, and those who flew to war. The word PEACE needs to be heard loud and clear in today's troubled world.

At dusk, I walk the silent runway where only plantains, mosses and lichens grow. Roots thrusting into crevices to erode the scars of war. Asphalt, once wedded to concrete, flakes and breaks its bond.

Concrete, millions of precision-laid bricks, sewers, water pipes, power lines, pillboxes, bomb-proof shelters, ammunition stores, billets, conning tower, cinema and mortuary. All now disused.

Here men and women toiled side by side, learning, labouring, sweating, loving, fearing, bleeding and dying. Giving everything, for my freedom to write. I owe them.

So I stand on the silent runway sensing their laughter, anguish, and tears. But I see no Hotspur, Auster or Spitfire. No enemy planes strafing. Then, out of winter gloom, the geese came.

A V-formation, flying low and slow on whistling wings. Each downward thrust of feather whispers one word into silent air. Peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace. Then they were gone.

Thank you for reading my work. A clap or more is always appreciated.

Jo Lovatt’s work “Still Sailing” Published in The Power of Poetry is well worth reading.