A Soon Shattered Day

Across meads thick brown with tussocks
field-gray soldiers march,
ancient crosses wrapped around their arms,
sway in twos
to strike like razor blades
to swing as crescent moons do.

Ahead distant smoke curls up and is caught in the light wind
in wisps it drifts away from homes
dug deep into warm hillsides.
But they soon follow paths
that tread through snow and past frozen ponds.
Cold white breath exhales across the calm meadow.
And as rough-hewn glass before it cracks
the still ice reflects the fading light
of this soon shattered day.

From my spot no one can stop
me from hearing their in lockstep walk of death.
No one can stop me from hearing their safeties click off,
and though not knowing how long
sweat clings to my clammy palms, drips from my armpits,
sweat beads collect and slip down the small of my back.
Sweat collecting into puddles of blood and tears
as I watch...as I read...

And they come, snowflakes dampening dark coats:
-There comes a loud knock on the door.
Children in closets frantically whisper,
rugs made sure
closets and chests shut tight.
-There comes another loud knock on the door.
Rust and paint crust
casts into the stale air with every shake of the door.
-There comes now a heavy THUD on the door.
Age-old hinges give in and the door collapses
dust scatters and cold air floods in:
a slow-motion shot at scenes end.

A Soon Shattered Day

Across meads of thick brown tussocks
field-gray-clothed soldiers march
ancient crosses wrapped around their arms,
sway in twos
to strike like razor blades
to swing as crescents do.

Ahead distant smoke curl in wisps away from
homes dug deep into warm hillsides.
Soon, they followed paths
that tread through snow and pass by half frozen ponds.
And as rough hewn glass before it cracks,
the still ice reflected the fading light of
the soon shattered day.


But from my spot no one can stop
me from hearing their in lockstep walk-death,
no one can stop me from hearing their safeties click off,
and though not knowing how long:
sweat clings to my clammy palms, drips from my armpits lands on my groin
sweat beads collect and slip down the small of my back.
Sweat collecting into puddles of blood and tears
as I watch...as I read...

And they come, snowflakes dampening dark coats,
garments too soft for this day of cold steel hands.
-There comes a loud knock on the door.
Children in closets frantic whispers, some will surrender,
some will become martyrs,
some elders wise but wait panic in their chests shallow breath,
rugs made sure or closets or chests shut tight.
-There comes another loud knock on the door.
Rust and paint crust
cast into the stale air with every shake of the door.
-There comes now a heavy THUD on the door.
Age-old hinges give in as the door collapses,
dust scatters, and cold air floods in:
a slow-motion shot at scenes end.