To Die In the Orange

There are some among us
Faceless faces in the crowd
Strangers on the bus
Ants not unlike other ants in this army.

6 pm comes and
Takes away the day’s clothes
Gives them their orange with reflective knee tape;
Their bellowing cape.
Sirens blaring, lights flashing
Stop someone’s heart crashing.

And as you sleep
Your tired head dreaming in the deep
Who prowls the night,
Eyes wide open and eagle sight?
Who keeps the end at bay,
A lighthouse for those who have lost their way?

Dial three numbers, they spring
And rush to hold on to
The fragile ends of your broken string.
And if you ever begin to sink
Don’t you ever think
Your life-vest is more than a call away.

Fifteen coffins
Fifteen dreamers
Fifteen givers
The tears of fifteen mothers
Fifteen lives exchanged
For a hundred thousand others.

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