The Angst of War

art: Whore of Babylon by William Blake

 

The streets were vacant.

Except for the occasional passers-by,

Like gliders in flight.

Rushing from here to there.

Down one ally way

A body seen curled in on itself

in the corner,  where two buildings meet.

Limbs pulled up against the chest.

Arms locking the legs in deep.

When we approached, We see,

it is a man. As he looks up at us,

His face stretched as his eyebrows raised upward into the forehead.

His eyes circular as in being open widely.

Mouth open like an infant feeding

But his jaw hung down as though those

Muscles lost its strength.

His body shook with the tremmers of angst.

Angst of War.

He kept babbling to himself,

The Whore of Babylon,

The Whore of Babylon,

The Whore is at War.

The Whore is here.

__________

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