#51 – Of Snow and War

Snow,
A bloody clash,
A shower of arrows,
Raining with fearsome folly,
Plunging down into the angry wolf,
His brother the ghost rode to meet,
In a game played by pups,
Sweet summer children,
Died so brutally,

A wave of men came rushing forward,
Wild and soldierly,
Brandashing steel sharper than words could ever cut,
Deep,
A wall of death piled on high,
Cut,
Strike,
Slash,
And trampled underfoot,
As horses raced through the mosh pit of war,

Bodies piled high,
One on the other,
A fortress of men,
A tomb for ghosts,
Suffocating and pregnant,
He saw the light,
Struggled up the fleshy pile to rebrith,
Admist blood and smoke,
To breathe its foul smell,
Its life giving lung for filling prophecy,

The dogs of war barked,
Snapping in a line,
Dying all around,
Prayers answered as the mockingbird flys,
And with him he brings the win,

One dog was left,
And the wolf bitch said to his pets,
Eat and let it be done,
Let you be gone.
Bastard.

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