By L.J. Bosela
Bombs are falling thick
Set me free, let me run
My heart stops its’ beat
In this hour of my death
Save me, Lord, take me home.
Clutch my beads, shout a prayer
My fate is sealed like a tomb.Close my eyes, see the cross
A priest offering up the Sacrament,
We are the hallowed flesh
Given up by those we do not see
An easy, near-forgotten sacrifice
To the masters of our war.
Our blood is naught but
A cheap, unconsecrated libation.
And now the crimson earth is
Drunk with blood of the nations.Out beyond my trench-
A fitting grave for this mass of men-
The maze of wire twists
Into crowns of metal thorns
Waiting for our last breath
For the stopped heart to say
“It is finished, yet again.”And I look up, and I see above
A scarlet sky turned to black.
I fall on my knees among the dead,
To call upon the God of the living
Ask him to end the quaking,
The tattered breath left me.
Set me free, let me run
My heart stops its’ beat
In this hour of my death
Save me, Lord, take me home.
Clutch my beads, shout a prayer
My fate is sealed like a tomb.Close my eyes, see the cross
A priest offering up the Sacrament,
We are the hallowed flesh
Given up by those we do not see
An easy, near-forgotten sacrifice
To the masters of our war.
Our blood is naught but
A cheap, unconsecrated libation.
And now the crimson earth is
Drunk with blood of the nations.Out beyond my trench-
A fitting grave for this mass of men-
The maze of wire twists
Into crowns of metal thorns
Waiting for our last breath
For the stopped heart to say
“It is finished, yet again.”And I look up, and I see above
A scarlet sky turned to black.
I fall on my knees among the dead,
To call upon the God of the living
Ask him to end the quaking,
The tattered breath left me.
I’m ready for the thorns,
For the bullet-piercing of my side,
My warm blood poured out
For others to be free, or so
The master of war declares.
Then comes the whistling promise
And I know my dark hour is done.
“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
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About the Author: L.J. Bosela
L.J. Bosela was raised in Sterling on the Kenai Peninsula. She writes mostly fiction, with a special interest in fantasy in the style of Tolkien, Lewis, and McKillip. Outside of writing, she also enjoys reading, drinking tea, listening to classical and folk music, and spending time walking through woods, bookstores, and antique shops.
3 Comments
Julia Woodring
I particularly appreciated the vivid imagery. I could see it painted like a picture when I read it. It was very good.
Irene Sexton
This is a very nice piece of work. While reading it i could really connect with the words and the feeling shown through them. The picture really adds a great amount of emotion to your work. The ending was i think the most powerful part of this piece. It really summed up all the feeling into one line. I think when someone can do that with their words it is amazing and that they should continue to write more and be published more. I really liked this.
Sarah
The religious imagery in this is intense and beautiful. Your choice of adjectives throughout are great, and the way you put pieces together. My favorite lines have to be; “We are the hallowed flesh, Given up by those we do not see, An easy, near-forgotten sacrifice, To the masters of our war.” Touching and sad to think of the image of a dog at war beside his masters.