deepundergroundpoetry.com
Rags in the River
Raw across the fields, we ran
from gunfire to birdsong
the still of orchard
greening moss
timing nature's slower breath
by steady march of afternoon
The bloodiest stains
may never come clean
memories that cant be washed
'till death permits us to forget
a bitter mourning wasting lives
however just times seemed
Kids with orders
hugging guns
though when the smoke cleared
none of us were men
and whether ours or theirs
no-one deemed to care
For just a moment then
we were all one army with sole intent
dragging bodies breathless
past so much fallen fruit
from a world struck dumb
for a prayer
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