A red silken banner ripples

Through the dusty air

Above dusty men
In white dusted green denim
Head to foot
The acrobatics
The tooting trumpets
Of a dusty dark time
Who will we be
When innocence glistening
Is gone from our eyes
Where will we stand
If not on our feet
Why will we be here
When we’ve lost what we earned
In the dark days
Of gladness
In vain
What will we hear
When laughter becomes
The wailing of a mother
Over her child
A young man
An infant

If born in war


We may as well have not come
We might have never been
We may as prisoners be fed into a box
Before our warm mothers
Lay her eyes
Her hands
On a child
In this time
A red silken banner ripples
Wrapped around her neck
A scarf
To lay amongst memorabilia
Of the million others
Who she fell with
To her knees
To pray?
To die
What is this dust that’s blown
Straight through the left side
Of my chest
Now holding a place
A heart used to be
A dusty hole
Shattered the chance
Of life
What’s there to earn or respect
What’s there to earn of glory
What’s to learn for every time
Desire blown to smithereens
Left standing
Just to fall
To knees
To pray?
To die