The Ghosts of Saipan

In a flash of sand-colored light, the clouds of dust in the air
Come to rest gently on the water, a swaying of trees,
Then nothing

Silence.

As wind swirls in and out of the sky,
Shells sitting heavy in pockets of white sand,
Scraps of fabric fluttering, defeated, from the ragged cliffs,
An echo of a scream.

Dark rings float dreamily in the air,
The smell of winter smoke encompassing the heat
As red flowers bloom in the tide, lapping the beach.

And the soldiers lie, with their fingers curled around their guns,
Their eyes closing softly as they drift off to sleep.