June 11 Line Prompt

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  1. Irish

    The silence makes room
    In the rubble left from the day before
    Tucked deep inside glass dreams
    And moldy cigarettes
    Softly scoop handfuls of ash
    Into sweat palms
    Make ready the death mask of mourning
    Paint your war face
    Massage it deep into flesh
    Open wounds ready to accept the sacrament
    Feel the burn of the holy sun and father
    Inside of you as it creeps in
    Through cracked blinds and crumbling walls
    Stagnant water pooled in the corner
    Washes away the guilt
    Baptism by fire
    Drink it in
    No time for doubt
    No need for reflection
    The casualties are behind you
    And with tomorrow comes a new pile
    To sift through
    A new pyre to set alight
    But for now there’s work to be done

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