GIFT TO MY ENEMY
I give a gift to my enemy
…Air full of acid smoke
Craters in the earth
…Blown huge…
Like the gaping mouths of demons
Above the din, the trumpets sound
…A battlefield heated by the fires of Hell
Cries of the Damned ring in the wind…
…Like a river, the blood runs red
…Battles here are never over
Because in Hell they fight eternally
Severed limbs repair…
…And each day the fallen arise
Amid crying, praying, bleeding
…The battle rages on
Through the smoke and the haze
…I see the warriors coming
Weapons at the ready…
Searching…searching
…For you
Every day…every day…
©Faye Sizemore
March 2002
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
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