The Church Bell of Valea Viilor

One, two, three, four,
tolls the church bell of Valea Viilor,
the elegy of absolution for the forsaken

and I see you on the frontlines
waiting for the thirteenth chime and
harassing the sacred moment.

And the thirteenth strikes.
For a second all is still and you wait for
the promised Jerusalem

but cometh none.
From nowhere thousands of soldiers swarm
and veil the fields in crimson

with viscera and blood of enemies,
reeking the vast land with the stench that will
last for eons.

Deep into the night, after
screams turned to whispers only your name
will ever be heard on this haunted fields,

preached until your holy cross snaps in two.
Only then will you have realised, Count,
that the dark red tarnish on your fingertips

and the gruel persistent memories
no amount of water will wash out and
no amount of nights past will annihilate.

One, two, three, four,
tolls the church bell of Valea Viilor,
the elegy of absolution for the forsaken.

Author's Note

"Don't cry, devil. Haven't you become devil because you didn't want to cry?" Heavily inspired with the Hellsing OVA 9.

Reviews

[AJ Kristiansen]

Wow! Well done! Excellent use of words and the images are so concise and the message so clear. You convey the scene in a way that strikes at the heart of us all about the sacrifice others have made and also the sheer waste of life and carnage and blood shed that often ensues (crazy) decisions and lust for power.... Very well expressed, it flows well and has a deeply impacting message!

[screamin'ian]

Five, six, seven, eight, with the blood I consecrate... ;)
Beautiful. I really enjoyed reading this one, Birdie

[Divinity Sleeps in This]

I must say I didn't recognize your usual style here at all, but it was just so bloody evocative, it just climbed the ranks till it rested at number two. I think you could push the experimentation a bit further in terms of choice of topic and pull it off at this rate.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A most involved title and worded prose, I found myself re-reading a few times, however you display your message with earnest, well done, good read.

[Emily B]

sometimes I walk the fields where soldiers gave their lives so many years ago, sometimes I hear my name

[L'enfant Terrible]

Out of all the poem's you wrote that I've read so far, I'd say that this one is my favourite. The first and final stanza conjure up images of anticipated dread. I love the feeling of muted carnage behind it.