lying in a field of fire
soul above me
stretched thin
battle weary
i am awake
i am asleep
i am all people
marching, righteous.
and the man says
we’re moving
but i don’t know
if he’s talking to me
or to my soul,
and so I march,
and i go
i stay
i fight
i die
and i live
or perhaps it is my soul
that marches
i can no longer tell.
