Charge

Field of dust and ember

Choaking stench of earth

Trees like twisted needles through the wrinkled fabric of the earth

 

Lines in parallel

Men hidden in the womb

In the ground from which we are and which we are to be

 

And through the land bound clouds comes a song

A chorus of deadly voices

We meet it with the rabid bark of guns

 

Their helmets catch the little of the sun that this place welcomes

They burst through the smoke then burst into viscera

Paint the grey in red

 

Press against the metal sliver

Feel the heat before me

Feel the kick of every round

 

Scent the burning of my weapon

Smell the grave with each inhale

The sweat and the powder all mingle in this hour

 

Taste the terror and the hatred

Spit parches cracking lips

Run my tongue across dusty teeth and swallow the grit

 

A single moment terror

Finally a terrible peace

Then the wailing of the wounded

 

Run the belt through wet the gun

Relax my posture

Ready yourselves men

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *