Alone in Death

Barbed Wire Noose

LIGHTS OUT

Smoke on the hills, ash on the dawn,
Boot prints fading where the sun bled on.
I’m on my knees in the torn cold grass,
Counting heartbeats that won’t come back.
Your tags burn cold like winter steel,
I hold your hand until the tremor’s still.
Under your coat by your broken side,
A folded letter—“For my child. Open wide.

My throat is fire, my eyes are rain.
The world goes dark, but I hear your name.

Father, I hear you when the thunder ceases—
“A man is the keeper of bread and peace.
You don’t need to die in another man’s war—
Be the door your family is safe behind.”
If ever fists have to rise to the sky,
Aim at the ones who make mothers cry.
You carved the truth inside the roar:
Do what is right; guard the ones you adore.

The paper shakes like a sparrow’s wing,
Your words march out like a solemn hymn:
“Help your mother when the coal runs low.
Carry your sisters through the winter snow.
Listen more than you choose to speak;
Let mercy lead when the days grow bleak.
Strength isn’t rage or a sharpened blade—
It’s bringing light when the lights all fade.”

I press the letter to my chest;
I hear your breath in every rest.

Father, I hear you when the thunder ceases—
“A man is the keeper of bread and peace.
You don’t need to die in another man’s war—
Be the door your family is safe behind.”
If ever voices must rise to the night,
Let them roar at the hands that sell the fight.
You carved the truth inside the roar:
Do what is right; guard the ones you adore.

If I must fight, I’ll choose the height—
Fight the throne that feeds on lives for pride.
Turn anger into bread and time;
Turn courage into open hands.

No more kings of bone and brass;
I’ll stand between the war and us.
No more mouths that bargain blood;
I’ll build a roof against the flood.
And when the night leans in to speak,
I’ll keep the vow you wrote in ink.

Father, I hear you when the thunder ceases—
“A man is the keeper of bread and peace.
You don’t need to die in another man’s war—
Be the door your family is safe behind.”
If I must stand and my knuckles ignite,
I’ll aim my fire at the sellers of night.
You wrote the truth that I’m living for:
Do what is right; guard the ones you adore.

“We will meet again—I go to my ancestors on the winds today.
And they will ask—as I ask you now—
What have you done for peace, forgiveness, and love?”
I’ll keep the door. I’ll choose the dove.


Devastate

Born Of Osiris

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