o3 Shawna L,
I find myself drifting into space,
my mind, its territory.
Lost in words and fragments,
of memories.
I close my eyes and picture it,
the sound of the waves.
The faint smell of death,
tainted by better days.
And in this time I see it,
black but turned to gray.
Sifting through the ashes,
of the slain.
And as water rushes,
it turns to red.
The blood of the innocent,
and of the dead.
Faintly creeping closer,
to rush in all around me.
The waves of salty death,
stored in memory.
And as helpless as I was,
you called still.
To help you from your torment,
to relinquish you from hell.
But you are just a lingering,
a haunting from the past.
And I reach to help you,
and awaken in the grass.
And this so happens every time,
I close my eyes to sleep.
That I hear them calling,
and beg me to dream.
To witness their masacre,
their slaughter and demise.
Yet tormented by the sorrow,
of their ongoing cries.
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