Lynette Dunn

SOLDIERS WHO FELL

The smouldering glaze
Upon which lay the souls of many.
Tormented cries of freedom
Colour drained from cold steel
Dripping glances fall,
Wool entangled with capture.
The field of dread.
For nowhere to seek wholesome
To wear the dirt of hope
For one to carry the burden,
The soul in many places.
The cold stare of disbelief.
Winding channels to find
You stood
You fell.
Fragments touch every post of bones.
Imbedded within your existence
The crime thrust upon thee
To give ones life,
But for still the heartbeat.