a poem from a dream

We saw half naked children hide
beneath the earthen ditch
and all of us did see so clear
that none of them was rich.

One of them crawled in to far,
a cave-in then ensued.
The screams began to deafen us,
our minds became unglued.

I tried three times to rescue him
and grabbed his tattered shirt.
His face was death and framed in white,
his mouth was full of dirt.

Some of them had followed us
into the autumn rain,
praying for a final cure,
an end to all their pain.

Crows were stationed in the trees,
sentinels sent from hell.
Witnesses to evil deeds,
ghastly "caws" for those who fell.

Heart and soul grew tired of it,
the death and crows; and all
but when the crows grew oddly still
silence cursed us like a wall.

Dragoons sat tall upon their mounts
along the tree lined rows.
Death came swiftly on that morn
with the killing of the crows.