Liberation

From the edge of the desolation,

Where the burning timbers still ember on

Against the encroachment of night,

Stands a liberator.

 

All around him, those still alive flock,

Filtering into the remains of the destroyed plaza

Through the cracked cobbles and corpses

Of the fallen empire.

 

Despite the silhouettes of survivors

Picking through the ruins of their lives;

The smog is silent. Stoic. Still:

Holding its breath.

 

The liberator cries out, "The day is won,

Our call for freedom cannot be ignored!"

All around him, cheers of victory and of liberation

Echo through the twilight.

 

But I wasn't cheering. I was lying

On the ground among the rubble,

My soldiers’ uniform stained red and black

With blood and ash.