Watch Them Waft Away

When the red dust finally fell
and we had counted the dead,
when our hearts ceased
the crazed accelerated beat
and blood stilled in our eyes
we looked to the east for relief.

Out of the sky came a steady beat
rising and falling in the tepid air,
an avuncular drone that pulsed
with eager hope for the living.

The dead lay in neat rows
separated from the broken
but still breathing bodies
by the thinnest strand
as we stood by to load them.

In the brief moment before
the last rose clamouring
into the sky we bent an
unbidden knee,
shed a tear, and stood
to watch them waft away,
waved that last goodbye.
© 16 April 2007, I.D. Carswell