When a Soldier Sighs

The turning of almighty earth,

The flirting of stars above us,

The hell cannon that thunders

And turns separate flesh into clusters

Of meat and bloody dirt,

It all stops,

When a soldier sighs.

Dull heads decorated,

Stories of lands pissed and marked,

And those ununique voices begged

By the beggars buckled in trenches

Being boiled in a pot of perfect plans,

When a soldier sighs,

Turn insignificant.

The voice of other’s tongues

Stabbing into the breast, while laughs

Besiege the painfully bold brain,

When compared to the sigh of a soldier

As the bayonet rips through the sinews of his hearth,

Sounds quiet.

Storms that took the mighty ship

And flung it to the sides of mountains

Flooded by His will, nor cries countless

Barked by rotting war-makers as they drowned,

Could neither startle an infant’s hip,

When compared

To a soldier’s sigh.

Lashing brother unto brothers,

Sons unto fathers,

Heavens cruded by disasters

Tempest-stricken will lie,

He who cast the shadows

Of war in men

Pharaohs ordering slaught as pharaohs were to die

When the faint firing squads

Whereby they achieved reign

Turn against them,

When their no-good tongues

Simmer in blood and phlegm,

When sighs rock the cradle of Bethlehem,

Will see, when the bullets ground their fattened thighs,

If men are gaps to fill, what makes a soldier sigh.