Those who never took the chance
would never know the song and dance
the bullets kiss or devils dance
for glory.
They would never see the smell
or listen to the devils bell
beseeching those who never fell
to join the dance.
It marches to you, creeps and crawls
it's in the air and on the walls
it beckons, tempts with silent calls
to play a part.
You dream of things you never missed
a silken glove, a child's bliss
and search for something in a kiss
distractions eels.
Count the shapes and number blades
of grass that ferment in the shade
of filth that wallows you in waves of grief.
Sunlit grey hangs in the mist
where brothers pray and bite their lip
to cut the cord that gave them birth
together.
Before another time and life
a memory before the fight
beyond the curtains of the night
it hangs it's face.
Only here and only fate
where then means nothing on the plate
food for thought the brothers wait
together.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
At first I thought brothers in Arms, then a brother who passed. Intriguing piece.