Dusty clouds: a war story

Dusty clouds echo the motion
of the battle fought this day.
Hawks and crows litter the heavens
"valour'd" men, below: their prey.
Ashes, cinders, earth and sweat
mix and fill the putrid air,
And soundless soldiers lie like stones
in the dust laid grave, so bare.

Name and rank, identity
have been stricken from each troop,
their officers commanded them
through field, battle and hoop.
Their generals marched the men
to glory and pledged holy grace.
Only to be marched to their deaths
and oblivion's cold embrace.

The faceless crowds now lay down
in wait of their deaths' turmoil.
From a holy war, wholly
ended, blood has stained the soil.
Friend and foe lay entangled
shoulder to shoulder they're racked.
Staring through the birds they feed,
Reliving the instant they were sacked.

What torture had they endured?
What torture have they still to face?
Their lips pass no clues to us
with blood and cruor, the boys are laced.

Dusty clouds echo the motion
of the battle fought this day.
Hawks and crows litter the heavens
"valour'd" boys, below: their prey.
Ashes, cinders, earth and sweat
mix and fill the putrid air,
And soundless sons and sires lie like stones
in the dust laid grave, so bare.