Into the fray…
What lay beyond the twisted barbs of shielded lines,
refuse of day’s gone by and fears aligned,
to quench the dry mouths of wordless foes,
who beset the harm that only souls can know,
and whittle away the hearts of men once torrid in the fight,
and leave them bereft, awake at night.
How invasive the echoes of past battles,
steel on steel that never settles,
and the blood and ache of pain and dirt,
mixed with flesh and worlds inert,
yet so relentless they become,
never fade as memories do disconcert,
like battle drums.
Hours in purgatory’s clammy hands,
dreams so emblazoned with fire and hurt so damned,
and eyes roll, sleep so distant a horizon,
none shall pass to see its arising,
and I twist and turn, sweat in fever clenched abandon,
lost from my own standing.
Smooth I plead, these rough jagged thoughts,
dragging me to darkness I should not aught to have,
when sleep needs me, pounds upon my door,
and I, entrenched with battles past,
flashing shields and bloodied masks,
wishing there was more to silence.
Tony DeLorger © 2017