Movement (I)

because if it’s any consolation,
there’s something there –
so he whispered in my ear
       trailing the shadow that taunts me in the mirror,
       I walked out the side door to lands we’ve lost our touch
       there I found faces, uncounted, unrecognized
       laying where they had fallen though some of them had still moved
       and those crimson tears turned to ice upon their cheeks, I stared
       as the off-season snow gently erased all signs of war
       and with them all signs of life
       somebody has to clean up after us, I knew, but I didn’t know
       because they don’t tell you...
they don’t tell you that the aftermath of death can be so beautiful.

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