The bells

The belIs are ringing

across the barren space

of death and life,

and bodies warm and

bodies cold lie in this

ground that once was

meadow and trees,

giving life in sun and green.


The bells cry out in the mud

from the shame of young men

bleached and strewn in

the space between, the place

of hell’s fire where the devil

and god have lost their meaning.


The bells grow silent

as the misty night stillness

descends and the bodies

warm and cold are collected

and dragged to another shallow place;

and the space is now empty

and sleep in ravaged by the

bells of death on another day,