Among the spineless thud of guns
the whistles of command,
the earth-shattering clatter of heavy feet
a voice so small, one could hardly hear
as it pleaded and groaned in its nest of fear.
"Mother’, where are you?
I’m your boy lying here – I see your face,
I crave your arms to console this dying child
locked in a mud splattered hole"
My eyes, though weary from lack of sleep
sought the tiny childlike mutter,
as bending down in the riverine of dirt
I grasped a hand with fingers taut-
the warmth inside- almost naught.
Afraid I would be dragged away, I lay
down in that puddle deep,
held the stiffening lifeless frame
against my breast; upon my heart,
as the thundering noise tore the world apart.
“I’m here dear son” I muttered
"Lay in the whisper of my tone,
no more fretting or fighting, as home once more
we both shall roam"
The hand squeezed tight, his head dropped backwards -
a smile of sweet contentment -
the cries and screams of rampaging death,
surrounded us – covered us,
as I noted his failing breath.
Teardrops wet my burning cheeks;
killing ceased its call -
the limp cold frame within my arms, had passed this life -
sparing me the devil’s haul.
Standing deep in enemy soil; the world around me wavers -
the grey beneath my boots -
Oh Lord -
my nemesis, and my saviour.