Brother against Brother

When I woke up
I was on the battlefield.

I can not believe for
however long I was out cold
that I had no recollection
of the war.

It took me
a moment to remember
where I was.

The bodies
and the smoke brought
it all back home to me -
QUICKLY.

It crept into every other
small crevice of my life
until - I believe - even the
hairs of my ear knew we
were at war; we were
pitted brother against brother.
So, I was startled to notice
that there was an inkling in
time - a ripple in my memory -
that did not know I was at war;
that we were at war.

Simply saying those words -
"brother against brother" -
in my own head, in my own heart
raises the taste of blood and
bitterness into my dry
and parched mouth. I feel as
if I was forced to fight them;
as if some cauldron of ire and
stamina was kicked over. In
order to avoid burning our feet
we all began a mad dance and
a hooting and a hollering that became
itself a contagion for its own
continuation - its own perpetuation.
It kept on well into the night of our
days on the raw nerve of too
much pride and embarrassment.
No one could admit to themselves
what we were doing - the base
and vile hypnotic euphoria led us
into a trance that has altered our
state of consciousness just enough
to have shifted the earth on its
access without our knowing.
Everything has changed. Nothing
has remained the same.

There are days in a man's lifetime
that he can look up to the dark and
early morning sky, and while
catching a glimpse of Ursula Major,
he can feel the gentle breath of a
few fallen snowflakes on his cheek.
Right here, right now, this
is one of those moments. But then,
I recognize that I have no legs
and that the freshness of the new
fallen snow is tainted beyond beauty
with the blood of the battlefield.

I am undone.
I am undone.