In the cold light of day

This ghost girl
weighted down in the mud

caked

struggling to place one foot
in front of the other
to move forward

burdened with familiarity
and substance
and theory

and all of those things
she held in her grasp
when they looked to her
for command

pinned

hemmed in on every side
as her army flail

crushed into
the sodden earth
like it knows each by name
and calls in such
reverence
that they cannot fail
to hear

whilst she is left
to stitch up the wounded

sew together
what little remains

pulling

at threads till they are taut
and grief will be her burden
alone

there amid carnage
a ghost girl
encased by those lost in the
onslaught

laden with defeat

striving to find breath and breathe

sinking
crumbling

calling out to a god
she no longer believes
exists

and all the whilst this fragile frame
precariously balancing
expectation
which sits heavy on her heart.