It's a Man's War

Home they bring a corpse alive
ridden with holes, that
breathe under the widow's shroud,
A shroud stained with the hues
of volatile flags.
Your uncrying wounds
bleed in my eyes,
visions of martyrs
marauding faith, flash
beneath my blinding veils.
Baying for more you march off again
claiming boundaries unseen-
beyond my mourning walls-
in silent sands and frozen shores,
I wail with yellow death
as the blood of your freedom
your sovereignty
muddies my corridor.
And as my roof gapes aghast
at the gruff, grey ash
licking off the sky blue dregs,
I hold your honour tight
between my splintered sinking legs.

It's a man's war, a man's war,
his victory and my fall.