In the evening sun,
the drum beats,
calling them home,
soldiers feet, tapping
rhythmic thumping
like a heartbeat.
The motor whirls
needles vibrate
the beat of the drum,
gliding, piercing,
pigmented into the skin
Like a machine gun
raking across our flesh,
pounding ink into the soul.
The priest blesses the soldier
the tattoo blesses the skin
magical protection
warding off demons of the night
of the mind, within
She remembers.
In the evening sun,
the drum beats,
rhythmic thumping
inking her skin
Circles of life
enveloping and protecting
her soul
Stars, for the heavenly bodies
to navigate safely through
the celestial stars of our universe
Numbers - numbers…
like the beat of the heart,
in time with the drum
to count the souls
Like the soldiers
tapping there feet
called home
to the tattoos
evening beat
She remembers
I almost heard the soldiers feet tapping!this is too perfect Dave,the imagery you picture is so real..great read!
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