I will call to you when the shredded spirits
On this day’s light gaze back at slaughter
And thunder their liquid wheels to the moon.
And I will ask you to kill yet again and again.
I will call to you from the arid cusp of charity,
And when the slaughtered fortitude cries out,
Howls to the moon sipping of the sun’s blood,
You shall collect tokens on the streets of Haditha.
SILENCE!
Do not speak weary soldier!
Your ears are not yours! Your mouth no more!
Your eyes are not your eyes!
Your feet are not your feet
They each belong to me!
Traded for your sweat and tears,
Bartered for your flesh and bone,
Given me by men of bold vision!
SILENCE!
I will call to you when the tattered spirits
Upon the diminishing light stare back at murder
And thunder their liquid wheels to the moon.
Copyright © 2006 mrp
Blue Gal
