Thank you, David, for this very dramatic and fitting poem for my art.
They came at night and with the moon.
These bringers of bad faith.
They flew from only god knows where on wings of dreaded hate.
And there before my bedroom window I watched their shadows land.
And I too small realize that soon a man must die.
I watched in silent horror as they came each night.
While all did sleep I heard their wings calling out to me.
And come they did from who knows where to take another off.
I listened to the neighbors cry as their mother passed.
I sat in bed and closed my eyes as my father died.
And mothers screams shook my soul but what was I to say.
I held my ears as another cried off in the next house.
And there they sat with wings so black and welcomed in the dead.
My eyes closed shut to the world no one to hold my hand.
For I was just a wee small thing alone in my large bed.
And on my walls the shadows few from moon light bright that night.
And soon I heard another’s sobs my baby’s dead oh no.
They fly on wings so full of hate and land without a sound.
They come to us while were in our beds safe from all we think.
And as we dream of better worlds and wish that we were young.
In they come to say our time has come.
My eyes have seen too much this night I pray they fly away.
For I am far too young for this misery.
I pray that they will never come to visit me again.
For when they do they bring such pain but this is what I do.
I watch the birds fly in each night and take away the dead.
I lie in bed and count the souls that they take with them.
I cry out loud when will this end and I can find some peace.
But no this is what I do I count the dead at night.
Oh fly away you hated things to where your hell is at.
Or come to end my misery and take me to my grave.