sleep now, your blood moving in the quiet wind   no longer afraid for the others   hurrying through the tall grass   or the faces laughing on the beach, sleep now   you do not hear the dry wind pray   or the children play a game called soldiers      sleep now, alone in the sleeves of grief   listening to clothes falling   and your flesh touching god   to the chatter and backslapping of christ meeting the heroes of war   sleep now, you do not hear the dry wind pray   or the children play a game called soldiers      sleep now, your words have passed the lights shining from the east   and the sound of flak raping graves and emptying the seasons   sleep now, sleep now   you do not hear the dry wind pray   or the children play a game called soldiers