Never Ending Peace


I went with the hounds, trailed their padded paw prints
while we looked for the fallen.
There wasn't much left in the massacred-field rose color,
only parts of memories that remained with those who were numb.

One side maintaining a dream of ordered anarchy and the other
for a bloodied freedom.
Dog tags knew their time was limited when this makeshift rebellion
came knocking at their shared door.

Sides were no longer sides when these bodies were buried beneath
one another.
The mutts' ears perked with anticipation, as did the smoke filled
breaths that poured out from their muzzle.

Our job is not that of coroner, but that of a diplomat for the dead.
They were faces that I once knew, with lights inside their eyes,
now they are all just dead hearts.
The dogs stopped neck deep in stacks.

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