Red Sand

The sky is a purple calm of night. With moon and stars the only light

A gentle breeze brings scent of sea, and crashing waves beckon their ease

And though this scene is serene and calm the past hides an ugly song.

For long ago men born far away made this strip of reef their grave.

First came they who would defend, with orders that they must not bend.

With a murderous hand the work was done no regard for native sons.

Then were those who brought the fight as early dawn swept up the night.

Thousands dug in and prepared to stand while scores more clawed for land.

Through high tides sucking squelching hold, a bullet’s greeting before their goal.

“I will go”, they bravely said, “I will paint the beaches red”.

Till bloody death’s appetite consoled, the stars and stripes raised on the atoll

So small a prize for what was lost a tiny stone in a greater cause.

Though past is horror today is calm as faintly shows the early light of dawn.

While fronds gently murmur of what they saw on the grim beach of Tarawa.