In the line of fire I stand
Blood in a drought filled land
The flesh wound smell
My nostrils are filled
Deaths desperate attempt
The air is chilled.
I reach out to free…
But then the blood is on me.
I can’t stop the gushing red
Shrieking pain, poisoned head
Grasping for a breath of faith
The air is thin, I cry out instead.
A cry of anger
Beyond wounded souls
Interrupted territory
Hot words. Burning coals.
Twisted cry
Mortality advert
Twisted truth
Woven with hurt.
Reconciliation I call
A gut filled plea
Groping dust.
Face down.
I cry out.
“mercy…?”