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