High upon a haunted hill,
Opal roses stand all still —
Precious hues with healing fumes,
Thorns of poison primed to kill.

Countless men have tried to take
Many roses for their sake —
Unaware that those who dare
Meet a hefty, deadly fate.

Legend says to stay alive
Opals must be shared 'tween five —
Different hands from different lands
Working closely side by side.

But we humans spar and slash,
Seeding chaos with each clash —
          Watch the opals frown and brown,
          Searing into dust and ash.

As we learn of battles past,
Post-war traumas that outlast,
May our broken souls be whole —
Let no opal curse be cast. 

_____

This poem follows the syllable scheme of the traditional Vietnamese thơ thất ngôn, where each line has 7 syllables.