Glowing nails

In Boetsjas fields the red nails glow
of female hands hole on hole
that mark their grave while in the sky
missiles and bullets bravely fly
scarce heard amid the tanks below.

Women were shot.  Short days ago
they laughed, felt joy, saw sunset blow
loved and were loved, and now they lie
reaching the torch; let’s hold it high
to give their nails eternal glow.