Amen for our Beloved Boys

No vile torment in this World of tears

Has bit so deep and willed such fears.

As I lay in the bloodied place

In the blood-soaked pool

In the darkened wood

Where the pain was cruel

There a single figure stood

Thorn-torn with bloodied face. 

And I counted with my counting hand

The souls coming stumbling by

All were formed as shaking men

Maddened faces gaped at the sky

And the darkened figure again and again

Wept for the shattered land.

Thinking that I should not yet go

My counting hand kept counting

For the souls fled on, leaping and flying

The numbers mounting and mounting

Into millions lost, it’s pointless denying

Too much pain for one man to know.