Statistics say that Death
came on in great demand–
and all the reels roll on
into the grim decree–
such madness in the flames,
the ponderous flight of man and steel
bidden, but unbound
could never be contained
by evil deep as soul was black–
but paper burns in fires bright
and names reduced to numbers
are lost beneath the ashes.
Memory is sifting through the dust
for dignity forgotten
by madder men than we.
The Dogs of War
can never be forgotten–
but the blood of the fallen
may never yet be found.
Screams echo through the halls
of history befouled
for all the lives we lost
and all the identities
we never may regain.