Yev S Poetry

For Every Flame

We had fortune with us.
For every flame that was lit.
Ten more leapt up in our heart.
Fear burnt our eye, sorrow scalded
Our cheek. We wept, we ran, we prayed.
But we did not die. For every licking tongue.
Eating at wood and flesh. Our hot soles panicked
And our blistered hand gave aid. For every sooty gust
We hid from. We let our petty jealousy away, giving the
Heat our pride. In the ruins of our hearts, the embers remain.

**Poetry of dubious quality 3 **
We give her our blood. For what it is worth.
So much spilled, cold now, no use even to
Feed the withered trees. Dyeing the blasted
Earth ochre. We bathe our bodies in cordite.
When the time comes to tear the cloth off our
Back and throw us to freeze with the crows
Our limbs, so dark with dust, seem to belong
To other people's lives. And what do we buy
Now, that we pay in years and red gold dug from
Our flesh with lead? An inch of rubble in a place
In a ruin once Stalingrad. For a mother's life
And a home forgotten with each six foot of
Memory torn from us to shroud our Comrades.

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