Duty
By Dark Magni
Turning away from duties, despairing,
Away from those whose hulls were breaching,
Shimmering in flames, golden seeming,
Past me, flew he, on his path grim.
“Fight, fight,” cried he, over comms repeating,
With maddening speed, swiftly going,
Away from battle, towards safe hiding,
Leaving us to face despair therein.
While young lives found their final ember,
The sight of him fleeing, I remember,
A fleeting thing upon my sensor,
Amidst the carnage, cruel and pallid.
Among fruitless deeds and hopeless clamber,
Amid last throes before sleep somber,
And corpses drifting in burning umber,
He said we had not done as bid.
I clawed a pathway out of the barrow,
Blind to all cries and sights of sorrow,
Sworn to resolve him to zero narrow,
But halfway short, the signal fell dead.