Present Arms
as the shadows creep around the walls
there persists the calling of the faint echoes of years passed --
almost imperceptible at first, steadily creeping as sirens in stealth,
until entangled with silent memories...
there’s a swaddle of truth somewhere laid down for me
-- a FLASH brings it all back --
the persistent bass drum beats
fall into the arms of the bugle calls
which cascade into a 21-gun salute
and the smoke rises...
the smoke rising and the shells falling
onto the dewy grass blades rooted to their dirty coffin
the infidel corporal shines from all corners of himself as he
sends all the death knell with hollow notes
bravo fox trot
there’s a swaddle of truth somewhere laid down for me
and some day, too, I will embrace it
in the hall the major darts past portraits of commanders
then pauses, mid-stride, allowing all the years of neglect
to be reflected in her chiseled face
and the general hands out coins
to soldiers he’s told are heroes
and the stand-to will still rise at oh-six
the trumpet from the private was torn
then bayonets and bullets flew
but the general’s flag remained in view
two brigades wasted on the lawn
the wind whips gaily through the town square,
perusing empty street and alley alike without care
there’s a swaddle of truth somewhere laid down for me
and some day, too, I will embrace it
but for tonight fall by its glow...and simply know.
