Frail dignity surrounded every one,
abused eyes struggling to contain their fears,
seeing a world of images past tears.
The shafts of death-dust caught in this day’s sun
create a sickening horror of what’s done.
They relive the torment of long-past years.
throughout a journey of hurt minds. Time sears
each open wound and memory undone.
Soft golden curls lie lightly through the gray;
massed broken lenses – prismatic ghosts at play
with keening spirits – hurting – in the skies
to whisper “We can never go away.
You must remember how it was we died.
Never again let men so lose their way.”
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