One Grave

         And their faces were blank. No features. No eyes. There are eyes. Somewhere deep inside them. And I can’t feel. I can’t feel it. The heat is gone. Their faces are white.

         Dig. Dig. So deep. And the men. They shouted. And we dug. With our hands. Caked. With mud. Thousands of fingers clutching at the ground. Men standing over us. Faces are clean but their eyes are filled with grime.

         They kick us. Their boots are padded. Don’t feel the pocking of our bones. It might hurt your toes.

Bones.

Bones cracking at every moment. We crawl out of the whole in the ground only to fall back in. We stood, once separate, apart, never together. But now we are together. In a whole. In the ground. No faces. Not anymore. No one is One. We had to be together. That is who we are. We were the people of the book. Once one nation in glory. Now we are one nation in the ground. We have no faces. All just one. We are one. And we are dead.