They March Towards the Sun
Fall with the drizzle and watch
The myriad of sunsets
Like the ubiquitous mist, and
Wade through the mud
To create the ripples that
Would whisk the stark portrait
Of the striding demise
One by one, footsteps fell
Like raindrops on the eaves
With the same alacrity
And magnitude, and mass,
Outnumbering the silence
Of my sojourning breath
And the gushing rivers
Pummeling the latticed walls
Of my abashed lashes
From my gaze they thawed
Into bodies, into silhouettes,
Into shadows treading
The paths towards the sun
These soldiers armed for wars
Heads held like wards,
Arms folded like barricades,
Eyes like sentries watching,
And souls like battlefields
Before the war, silent but
Brazenly shunning disaster
They held their married guns
Close to the fathom's of the viscera
Like a crying child, some
Like a dead wife, and
Loaded them with bullets
Fear clouted and nil dodged
For the patios never quaver
Safe within their turrets
The sanguinary epistles
Invoked by anticipation
Dissipates with their cloaks
As they knocked through the gloaming
And rummage for virgin grounds
Safeguarded by an intangible
And invisible strength and valor
Whilst I careen closer,
Like curious spectator
Blinding the storm's eye and
Becoming the scull and temper
Of this modest typhoon;
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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