Carved In Ice

in poetry •  5 years ago 

A nation that rallied,
For a dead belief.

Faces smeared in white ash,
Hearing the horn,
A call to war.

Blood running black,
A warrior at large,
A prayer to hope,
For a meeting again.

No more pain,
In that final destination,
For the one,
Who commanded death.

One word,
To stay behind,
During the final days,
For the end was here.

Your fear, keep that away,
Do not let it make the call,
That has to be yours,
And only yours alone.

It's time to fly,
Fly all the way away,
To outer space.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/photos/vEbdiy3vDPk


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