The Imitator
Twirling beacons glow warm in winter’s night
Bright white souls swiftly growing old
Sunlit sidewalks fill with chalk
Rain, feather dust and flies
A sloping sleeping heat
Tripping scores of men fall short
Icy breadth, cold sweat, and smoke
Screaming cries, a leg, pierced throat
Rivers flow through sand and mote
Seeping wounds run deep
Religion stands behind the line
Its song is an unwelcome tone
It’s faith around the soldier’s neck
A truth that’s etched in stone
In this he lives in life and death
In this he’s not alone
Fleeting floating slumber
Sifting through the pleas
Stop to hear the thunders roar
From under the debris
Churning bones, and carcasses
Bursting forth to see
A hard caught breadth
A truth
A death
A ship that’s lost at sea