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Surreal is a word bandied about far too often,
Yet the vague attempt to try to understand did not soften
The blows that assaulted all senses -
I heard the distant din of perishing souls,
All too soon extinguished by that swift, hurtling arrow.
My eyes bore through the walls of my steel wagon, the tolls
Of the dead burnt in my mind, bodies in graves far too shallow.
What was that scent? Desperation? Pleading eyes
Begging our return; salvation denying all things heroic.
Why did we not fall back? Bound to my saviours with ties
Too insistent, too militant, too invested in their duty, stoic.
To be wrenched from that prison and be denied the relief of air
Was instead tainted, acrid and defiled
Along the corridors we raced, clawing without care
Searching for another golden child.
We were too few, did they not see?
They soldiered on, our saviours and yet held captive
Struggling to fall in line, we three,
Left behind our senses, all to live.
I've forgotten one, such time has passed...
And now all that's left is too much to bear,
And to speak of it now, we three, not dare.