Harsh Words and Dry Bones

In a war where millions died
Not just for acquisition
But a war of elimination

Bureaucratic rooms filled
With uniforms tightly pressed, medals
Speak of strategies and missions

Storms prevent civil rescue
No provision or water for soldiers
What fuels a human’s survival?

Storing the dead and not-quite dead in pits
Carving pieces off the thighs and calves
When the kill is fresh, bones are soft

Sell our souls for our flag
Offer our bodies to save our children
Negate our hearts for those we love

Harsh words order death
Stubborn and irretractable
Dry bones become weapons.

Deborah L. Weaver
June 15, 2011