Afterwards

We bury the dead.
One shovelful after another
We dig the graves, we bury the dead.

The rain pours down,
Soaking our hats, our uniforms, sneaking
Under our collars, trickling down skin.

And still we bury.
Our side, the other side,
Friend and enemy alike.
We bury the dead.

cross-posted at Pictures, Poetry & Prose

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