sunrise

there was mostly silence now,

broken only by an occasional

scream or moan,

flashes of far-off cannon fire

lit up the distant horizon,

an eerie reverence permeated

the air,

we rested slumped against

one another,

staring blankly into the early

morning sky,

only hours before it was insanity,

unimaginable horror,

a great tidal wave of madness

and fury,

everywhere, bodies lay locked

together in death,

covered in blood,

covered in guts,

everything a weapon,

broken guns,

bayonets,

rocks,

fists,

fingernails;

in the end it had

come down to teeth;

the sun was beginning to rise,

steam rolled off the sea

of carnage that lay

before us,

our nostrils saturated

with the stench of rotten flesh;

it was sacred,

almost holy.

.

.