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The Falling Man

When there’s no choice,

but die or die,

but only space

for how to die,

by flame or fly,

by burning slow, or diving death,

a lonely place, not if or why,

but stay in pain,

or quicker fall -

what is the choice when none at all?

To celebrate as heroes, should,

but brush away the harshest day -

that falling man had had his day -

remain in hell, or fly away.

You look away?

It’s for the man, not you I say:

the unknown soldier

in the air

as life laid down,

the falling man.

Published by Spillwords, 11th September 2023

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