He fell

lifeless

through the overcast sky,

his uniform shredded

where the ravening metal had

violated him.

He crashed as deadweight into the sea

and the first ripple flayed the skin off the gentle hearted woman,

crow barred the man's skull into bloody splinters,

and filled the boy with agonized hatred that burned him mercilessly

for seven decades.

The second ripple jackhammered concussions into the foreheads of

all those who had lifted

a glass with him and shared raucous laughter,

and leering jokes about good lays,

on smoke-filled

Saturday nights.

The third ripple gave the back of its hand

across the face

of his entire office, silencing it and

putting some years on a few of the unarmored ones.

The fourth ripple spat in the eye of all who had greeted him on rainy

mornings and who had chatted amiably about

nothing.

They simply nodded sadly and tipped their hats or said a

quiet prayer, secretly glad that it had been him

and not the one who was hanging by a thread

above their own heads.