My 4th of July poem

The Nature of Curiosity

Some folks will always be trouble-
either they beg it or bring it, back
bent under the weight, they come
bearing wretched curses and injuries,
sport red paper carnations, symbols
of long-forgotten warriors who stood
proud from when war was something.

Besides the dead, there are the quick
to remember, the broken soldiers,
limbs buried far from home, wounded
in some new Pharsalia. A bitter sigh,
the more things change, the more
they change, and we are lost luggage,
owners moved on to new belongings.

How could it not be so? Humanity begets
an eternal struggle, the yin and yang,
good vs evil to celebrate this diversity
balanced over eternity's emptiness
we weep hard, rend our garments,
clutch the absurdity of hope, gallows
humor the thing that gives us gravity.

When a child asks "Why? reply
"because", it keeps the ball in play,
a new generation who'll seek the peace
they cannot own, embracing trouble
as we did, so will our progeny display
themselves, curious to find some truth,
defend some creed and carry on, carry on.