The beads of sweat dripping his face
Like morning dew scattered and lost
In a dawn that was held in the clasp of night
Cloaking the sun under fatigues and wires
Somebody cried in a desolate prayer
Raised in echoes in murmurs of the dead
‘Let me walk to the meadow you stole’
‘Let me awake from my unnamed crypt’
‘The thunder you stole now rains over me’
‘The seed you buried, spouted and grew’
‘Red is the stain on your collar and sleeve’
‘Red is the fire that flows in our veins’
‘Red is the resolve that nourishes our aims’.

~S~

3rd March, 2013

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