The Soldier
THE SOLDIER
Rudely awakened,
by sudden blast of bomb,
He jumps to grab, instinctively,
his gun.
All around shrill sounds echo,
Amidst mortar shells,
human cries also.
Cries of frenzy, cries of despair,
as the enemy advances.
Pinned under crossfire
His mind races.
across deep waters, countless miles away
To familiar faces,
smiling faces.
A beautiful woman,
a child of three…now five
Its flowing black hair,
dimpled,
Its large, limpid eyes, their innocent stare
Asking of mother,
"When will father be home?"
The battle lasts,
far into the night
From muzzles of guns, as explosives climax
Flashes of light,
that tell the tale of death,
As man his brother downs
in mindless struggle,
for what neither owns,
But by virtue of circumstance,
each a murderer…
He aims and fires.
It now nears dawn,
By the light he knows,
He rises shakily
A man spent,
reliving the nervous throes,
which accompany this thing
called War
With conditioned awareness,
albeit impaired
He scans for others,
Who might have fared,
as well as he,
but finds under heavy mind,
that he alone wins.
Not far away,
as he centers his prey
The enemy sniper grins.
The soldier recoils,
then doubles forward,
as the pain lances his chest.
He falls hard,
against the dusty, blood-stained ground.
And sees a vortex of visions,
that spins his head.
round and round,
Till…
Visions no more,
Pain no more!
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