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!