innamorare

taps

It is too dark to see much.
Maybe the person in front of me.
The bell tower starts
to chime, old hymns -
At one familiar yet strange,
A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,
Amazing Grace.
After the last chime
has died away
into the evening air,
then, faintly -
a slow
cadence,
footsteps,
echoed
heartbeats
of those remembered.
Closer,
then-
abruptly,
silence.

Guns slam simultaneously
to the ground.
Ready,
Aim,
Fire!
come the whispered commands
One -
I wince,
the sound washing
over my body.
Birds cry
as they rise from the trees.
Two -
my eyes close,
the flash unbearable.
Three -
there -
the souls
of our departed Ags
sped up to heaven
on the wings of
a 21 gun salute.

Finally,
the strains
of Silver Taps
reverberate
through the still night air.
Once,
Twice,
Three times.
Then, in a hushed stillness,
we depart,
mourning the loss,
yet celebrating the life.