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
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