I took a walk into the past as I slept in my bed,

I visited many people that I knew were long since dead.

It was a discovery of a time so long ago,

Research of ages where memories used to flow.

A body wrapped in plastic such a horrible smell,

A soldier long since dead, body bloated and swelled.

He fought bravely the battles, but they had taken their toll,

Centuries ago he lost not only his body but his soul.

An unknown force, he stood as the plastic peeled back,

I nearly lost my mind. Almost had a heart attack.

The shadows moved. A journey before my eyes,

In only a few moments such fear. I came to realize.

This is it. This is where I am meant to be. Here.

I am held captive in a land that I fear.

Angry villagers overcome by an emotional greed,

Bloodstained hands destruction and pain, their need.

Such a deep-rooted rage they have trapped inside,

I felt their sickness, and, at that moment, I cried.

How to escape the angry mob in despair,

I looked for an entrance, an exit, I looked everywhere.

The soldier was behind me, then more and more,

I desperately tried to find an opening. A door.

Blood soaked ground, screams of a deathly pain.

Upon her knees, I saw her cry. And then the rain.

It could not cleanse. It would not. For the rain was not pure,

She shed her memories. Not even that was a cure.

They walked behind me now. Helpless and forlorn,

The dead, the dying, all were reborn.

A tune they cried in savage pain, how my heart ached,

The moans and screams in a melodious earthquake.

I tried to stop the tears I felt. I tried to cover my ears,

I was all alone in a terrifying world full of heartache and fear.

The beat of drums in the distance the rhythm of time,

One soldier stood confused. He was losing his mind.

He grabbed his head in his hands rested his tears,

Bloody and cold memories of hundreds of years.

The look on his face I fell to my knees. His pain was great.

Tortured needlessly, then killed in a lawless battle in 1748

Jagged edge rusted sword a cross cut mark upon his face,

He staggered a bit falling all over the place.

“Oh, my peace, it would never come for me,”

Grave upon grave we lie, never to be set free.

What we have seen, what we have done. Oh, darkness of death,

Help us. Please help us. Take our tarnished breath.”

What could I do but pray over the useless flesh and dead souls?

The crimson blood over the valley and meadows still flowed.

My tears shed a river of transparent silver, the beginning of love and peace,

An awakening of sorts, shadows fade, the earth turns green, the memories cease.

© Cynthia Clark