Submitted by Incandescence and Faith
Men fall like toy soldiers
on a checkered battlefield
where even kings of stone can bleed
and fall to ash.
above it all
in perfect benevolence smiled
an angel fit for a
holiday card.
he cleared his dead white knight from the field
and flicked blood off his slender fingers with a
pained grimace,
as if he were above such atrocities.
Beneath it,
the hands of a fallen angel once again clasp the
small pawn, smothering his will
in a delayed moment of terror,
then blank-faced obedience.
It was not unlike his faith to stifle
so small a treasure as this and to reduce to ash
what once was a faithful subservient to a flailing god.
Staring up at a war-torn sky, queens
clutch the veils woven tightly round their faces
and castles
come crashing down
under the force of
hijacked planes and hand grenades and
children with guns.
and somewhere in the pretty sky,
an angel bows its head,
but not in prayer.
Far below
a demon smiles
with teeth like small sharp bones.
There was no shot heard 'round the world
only
the rare silence of god and men both,
and the small bright sound of
stone hitting stone
as the white king
fell.
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