By Benjamin Shapiro
She danced. 

In a dying land, 

She danced. 

Holding out her hands 

Eyes, teary and shut,

She spun round,

Twirling ‘midst

Cacophonous sound

Of battle, death, 

And screaming men,

A dance of rememberance

To a time when

The world was bright

And full of wonder,

Instead of screams

And war drums’ thunder,

A world where whirling

Movement of a bird 

Wasn’t considered 

So absurd. 

That world was dead,

But still she danced

On the small, but

Very real chance

That she could

Bring it’s heartbeat back,

That though it was dark,

Not all was black. 

Bullet then ripped forth 

From just whose gun,

It’s still unknown,

And so soldiers run

From opposing sides

To this angel bright,

This angel who was

Torn from flight. 

They threw arms down

For light was dead 

And, ashamed, 

They bowed their heads

For this girl

Who took her chance, 

This girl who died

Because she danced.


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