Killing Fields.

You lay beneath
a thatched canopy
that separates you
from the open sky.

The moon she weeps
as you disguise your
grief for dead who lie in
the blood drenched fields
and open trenches.

Gusty winds try to
wipe your tears but
the pain and anger is
far too great.

Smoke and the smell
of gunfire still crisp
and fresh permeating
through the air.

Wounded and
dying lay in clumps
too weak to cry out
their pain and agony.

Too many are dead,
graves lacking as
corpses lay slowly
rotting.

Trunks of trees
shattered and torn
by bullets sprayed
from all directions.

This land of war,
filled will blood and
gore shall yield this
day no victor.

Senseless murder
of men, they say
was done all in the
name of freedom
and glory.

But all that remains
is the foul stench of
death and the
haunting cries of
those who died.

19th June, 2012 (c)