A Bridge From The Other Side Poem by James McLain

Before now from the past
I recall
across distant morning
the fog
rising up with the rest
all but a few
knew today might very
well be the last day
of their
brutal existance they call
life
come, come with me
we stroll across
field's
filled with death and some young
twitching
still with some life
though they be
dead
one body it moves as of it
stripped
of their clothes
some common few like his
standing over
the corps I kick his side
where a
buzzard crawls forth from his;
caught off guard
the knife quickly comes out
leaving nothing to
chance
I cleave the head
from the buzzard,
chop, chop, chop, chop, chop
the rest of it's body
flapping it's wings though
the sound one should
know where everyone sings.
except for the head is inside.