You and I met at the most unfortunate time:

Shrieks of bodies being torn apart

Filled my ears as I looked into your eyes - 

Earthy hazel, a grounding, on which I could rely.

Hell was bearing down on us, and yet I

Did not cry; we emerged, intact, but apart,

And for the moment, swallowed the lie.

 

Years of companionship spent in uniform stride

Into wanton ruin where only ravens fly,

Crawling and surviving against the thundering skies

And rotted, skeletal land, vibrating with the baying of dogs

The crimson fog concealing bullets dodged.

All I recall are those eyes, like beacons in

The night, spurring me on.

 

And in the dark, we could come alive

As one, amongst the littered dead,

With suppressed sighs and silent cries.

The iron glove from above could not extend so far;

Their firm rods could beat down upon other heads,

Turn the dust blood-red,

But never touch the eyes of the earth.

 

As merchants of death we could have thrived,

And with the unbending rule aligned, were it not

For those who had died and those who did not die.

And so we withered by day and and in the lies,

Only to return as maligned Lazaruses under the moon.

The dawn breaks as these eyes see the sun go down,

And hell creeps in as soon as the morning resounds.