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

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