Twisted bones lie deep within the ancient earth,
Ashes, shadows and dust.
A criss cross of scars, a map of suffering, charting grief
Graceless. Faceless. Neglected.
No heroic stories or smiling photographs to make our deaths more profound,
More glorious.
To save us from oblivion.
Our families wait in hopeful pride,
The sun sets, the seasons change, the stars swirl by.
Still they wait,
Still we long
Each of us plucked from the tree of life,
Forgotten fruits,
Lie as rotten windfalls.
Bodies for the taking,
Weapons of war
Destructive. Disfigured. Desperate.
Never waking, engulfed in eternal darkness.
We are the forgotten,
The nameless and the lost.
Yet we shall always be remembered
Lest they forget.