Cry of War

Walking in the shadows,
Hiding away from the fears,
that haunt you,
taunt your courage so shallow,
The cold wind kissing the grass,
singing the song of death,
praying to God,
to end its eternal orchestra of sorrow

The melody of the cemetery,
the call of the dead,
All those who've forever bled.
Passing by a grave.
An infant lies there
sleeps, in the warmth of the dirt
covering him for uncounted decades
"it's cold Father" you hear it whisper

The sound of a tombstone cracking
in the chill of the night,
Another grave digger, you know it,
looking for a piece of hope to sell,
to hold his child, who forever lays silent.
You wonder,
How time hammered its weight,
On the dreams of all those,
Who lie in this cemetery,
so close, close to the mother that spawned them.

Such endless lies, weak ties.
All faded, as the dust of war settles.