NATION AGAINST NATION

Scorched Earth

Catapults and ballistas.

Rain of fire from the sky.

It’s burning—already on its way down.

It comes with a sound—

that passes through you.

Then it strikes.

The ground answers.

Trees give way.

The line doesn’t.

It breaks.

The man beside him is there—

then not.

“Hold!”

No one knows who said it.

“Ave Caesar.”

They move—

not forward, not back—

but through what remains.

Fire runs the earth.

Men don’t.

When it’s over,

they gather the living—

counting with hands that won’t stay still.

They pause.

And count again.