The God Of Doubt Poem by John F. McCullagh

A Roman, noble and Patrician,
Moved his Legions into position.
The morning Sun was in their eyes
As they advanced upon Cannae.
The Day was hot, they lacked hydration
As they fought this battle of annihilation.
The hot winds swept dust in their eyes
As they advanced upon Cannae.
Hannibal troops seemed to retreat,
The Legions were in hot pursuit.
The Carthaginians moved to surround
The Romans on the killing ground.
Eighty thousand Roman dead,
Mars’ thirst quenched by the blood they shed
Their arms and armor cast aside
Upon the fields around Cannae.
Fortuna always smiled on Rome
Before this battle at Cannae
Rome’s Senators refused to yield
though their Sons lay dead upon the field.
In the Pantheon of gods
Echo prayers from the devout
To a new god born of that rout.
Some say it is the god of doubt.