The Blood Between the Clicks

At dawn the bells toll
Dispelling the gloom of the nightly booming parade
the explosion of shells in the streets and the screaming of sirens
The dawn is for the dead, not the cautious frightened faces that peer out the windows,
hoping that the city has not been blown away
That prolonged hour when the sky begins to change
Inky darkness bleeds into the horizon
Leaving behind the tired sun who drifts into the sky

The shimmering orb brings forth the living
those left behind to carry the burden of the dead
Lives cut short by the hammering of machine guns
The distant ticking, that constant clicking, the sound of the clock of time
For some it stops to soon, others plead for its final click

Young men, nothing more than saplings, cut down before they could stretch out towards the beaming giver of life
They spend a heroes eternity in darkness
Never again will they feel the warm glow of the sun

The inconsistency and fragility of life is forgotten
by the people, the milling herd, the civilians
those who's cups are always half empty
They know nothing of the sacrifices made for them, honor is just another word

Alone, on a distant shore, your son dies
His heart bleeds out
On his lips, three words
---"For my country"