If, in some deep, unthought of place,

The dead could congregate with grace,

They'd shuffle, wartorn, timid, bold,

All breathless in the dusty cold,

Of every race, creed and kin,

Whatever the shade of their frozen skin,

Regardless of their spoken tongue

And whether they died old or young,

Once, by labels, they were bound...

but now, could they find a common ground?

Although they may not all have met,

Each heart is full of fond regret,

Their bodies drained of lively heat

And every heart has ceased to beat.

Each face, bloodied, muddied or clean,

Is riddled with the same pale sheen.

Would they watch us all, alive?

Thrive or struggle to survive,

Each unnecessary breath,

(silenced soon enough by Death)?

Watch us, judge us, dull and clever

And gossip of their own endeavour?

I wonder, would they lightly chatter

Of drug research, machine gun clatter,

Love, life and slow demise,

A light now faded from their eyes,

Pets and wives, a wedding day...

For as they all have passed away

They may just speak the same tongue now.

Two soldiers might shake hands, somehow.

Perhaps they're equal in that cold, damp must

Like ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.



i don't know if we're allowed to repost edited work... this one is from ages ago, but it's still one of my favourites, and i've made changes that i'm very please with! Please read and enjoy...