Roll Call

Dust the stench of fear from bloodless heroes laid to rest on muddied mountain path forgotten in the depth of passing sunsets remembered in survivors tortured wrath carrying the numbed and hidden horror through the guilt of living’s sunlit day fingers tracing faces on a stone wall where they knell to weep – but seldom pray. Heroes – now alone – in endless battle dread the clinging scent of lingering fear Point men – first footsteps through a “mind” field tremble as the soundless trumpets blare. Children in a playground - playing soldier denied the hope of ever growing older. John G. Lawless ©12/30/2018