Sand Tombs

I feel the ground beneath my feet
the faces in the sand speak to me
little traces of humanity
in a history so filled with misery
thought not of our own mortality
I plant my heart in this sand sea.
I say good night and bid them well
those who passed over these broken shells,
into a million pieces numbering the people,
into the grace beyond, the strong and feeble
The prints of gods and the prints of devils
strap guns of death, despite their perils.
What thing was it that drove them old?
What grand idea made them so bold?
Lost loved ones cried as they were told
their fruit made dry; their bodies sold
into these carcass-ed dunes of gold.
Here is where my heart beat
for here is where past the feet
of an army bringing liberty,
only to see none as they die;
Finally understanding the great lie.