written on January 27th 2009
So we hear their roars, we hear their cries.
We hear them screaming for bitter goodbyes.
Marching down a lane towards the final battle,
the drums beating throughout the winter night.
The crying of lonely wives, the tears of families,
it’s almost enough to keep us here,
but we are to continue to fight through it all.
Trouble is near, it’s in the atmosphere-
inhaling, exhaling, the blood of the wounded.
My friend dying beside me, my love in my mind.
The image of what could have been haunts me.
It’s almost morning, soon we are all to be mourned for.
Crates of our bodies shipped to homes,
memories destroyed, not forgotten.
Pain doesn’t decease here, it rises and feeds on their sorrows.
Their heart break, scars, wounds, defeat do not vanish,
their souls, no longer willing to exist, deteriorate.
Tears are still pure, as they suck the poison out,
wounds still there, empty feeling.
It haunted you, it haunted me,
it was unbearable to see them leave.
To see them march on, with their heads narrow and straight-
their hearts continued to race, breaking a cold sweat,
marching, the drumming.
Then I see ghosts.