| Apocalypse
selfish eyes see a dim reflection
Matt (c) 5/24/99 |
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| Nineteen Sixty Nine
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| Gettysburg
* warm wind slowly blows caressing the wide field of grass going slowly from the woods towards the far ridge I walk my nose drinks the smell of grass of clean air and bright blue sky * the voices of the dead call softly from the dusty ground at my feet sinking down on both my knees putting hands gently to the earth as if to touch an painful wound. * startled now my hands are red all the ground is suddenly red the sharp pain of dead souls beckon me with their song * thousands are lurking here the sound of cannon still in their ears The screams of death and dying the smell of fear and urine and gunpowder the grass sucking their Blood in gallons lush and dark green with its power * their tears flow in currents strong boys and men slaughtered in grim defiance their lives rich with violent decisions and compassion when needs came * the mystery of chasms wide between what is and what needs to be ended here with brothers dead stacked in piles high three deep * they ask me Why? their sacrifice to settle a grim debt to close the bitter sharp dispute for freedom and brothers sake that a seal by blood more tightly bound than ever by words and treaty has been forgotten * we hate still our brother we shrink from compassion the innocents now slaughtered afraid to shed Blood afraid to have ours shed * in selfish moral houses we hide and speak peace but the demon of hell knocks and will not be denied his blood * they ask me Why? are cowards we? our own interest worship allowing the bonds of freedom to fray and be torn neglecting our own house paid for by their Blood in rich crimson hues and bitter pain * they ask me Why? the shame of my tears my only reply Matt (c) 5/29/99 revised 6/29/99 |
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