by Nick Gisburne
She walks among the bodies in the sand
Their lifeless eyes will never see the dawn
She wipes the knife blade, turns it in the hand
And scans the bloody battlefield with scorn
She gathers golden treasures for her bag
And cuts away their talismans of luck
She spits upon the filthy, fallen flag
And slashes it to ribbons in the muck
Their ships are twisted skeletons of coal
Black cinders stain the waters of the sea
And all to raise their banner on a pole
To claim the land she knows was always free
She does not doubt they will, some day, return
She wonders who will live and who will burn
