Colin F. Jones

~ One Spur And The Arrow ~

~ 446 ~

Wounded, One Spur tried to rest
Hide from the gruelling sun
Blood from his shattered chest
Had fast begun to run

~ 447 ~

His faithful horse exhausted
Failed to raise his head
His whinny soft and friendly
Told One Spur, hope was shed

~ 448 ~

Alone there on the desert
Strength sapped by callous sun
One Spur with great sorrow
Raised his Enfield gun

~ 449 ~

The shot split the shimmering heatwaves
Echoed across the plains
Resounded through the Wadies
To the far off parched terrains

~ 450 ~

The magnificent echo of the Arrows call
Screamed its eternal sound
As there a man in solitude
Fell dead upon the ground

~ 451 ~

The breathless air in stillness,
In the dancing heat of day
Sparse trees all stood in solitude
Along the grassless way

~ 452 ~

Bowed prayer-like o’er the sleeping dead
Upon the lifeless sand
From where their souls from bodies fled
withered on the land

~ 453 ~

In those wasted grains of sand
Their souls again returned,
Ne’r to leave, nor had they left,
When life therein had burned

~ 454 ~

Seeped all love, all feeling seeped
Into the earth’s deep fire
As Souls unseen and hearts unseen
To some far off place retire

~ 455 ~

Left now is a fading memory
A small thought that time will fade
That whispers in the desert wind
Losing all in timeless shade

~ 456 ~

Life now lay in mystery
Unseen, by even memory
Lost from all times reality
Lost, gone to eternity

~ 457 ~

The Soldier who now stood alone
Turned from the tragic scene
In his eyes were bitter tears
Saddened by what he’d seen

~ 458 ~

He walked slowly to his waiting horse
And mounted in the day
Then quietly from the trails end
Poor Deacon rode away

~ 459 ~

And swallowed in the desert
Deacon rode alone
Astride his tiring whaler
That was thinning to the bone

~ 460 ~

There the desert sought him
And claimed his mind and soul
For when his horse had fallen
He wandered like a foal

~ 461 ~

All hope, was hopelessness
There all courage died
Strength reserved had used its strength,
Now useless to gain a stride

~ 462 ~

And death could not seem real,
For how could the living die?
“God there must be such as thee
Or this life is but a lie”

~ 463 ~

Now the sun, the burning sun
Has sunken from the sky
Across the silent arid plains
The night’s great shadow lies

~ 464 ~

This darkness shrouding empty lives
That the wild and free have led
Hid the sorrow in the wind
For tall Deacon, he was dead.