They Are Not Torn.

They are not torn
such was the innocence, of their joyful, youthful faces
now left wilted – grasping the land, beneath their fallen feet.

They are not torn
though left abandoned in senseless, countless numbers.
Disbelief; engraved with relief, soon to be consumed by guilt
on the face of each survivor:
Over so many wasted soldiers lives.

They are not torn
as the shriek of death erupts once more, ripping wide
the secular white of each fragile life.
Leaving the flies to their gathering,
sweat and blood, now decaying side by side.

No they are not torn
as the cloudless blue sky reaches right on down.

Pops August 7th 2014 ~xx~

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2 thoughts on “They Are Not Torn.

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