The soldiers left dead on that desolate field.
The innocents killed because of one wrong move.
So he stood,
alone and broken,
atop the bloody mound.
Gazing at the bodies
and the chaos his comrades had brought.
With a heavy heart and leaden feet
he trudged back home.
The thoughts of the day killing him inside.
Soon he met a traveller, going the other way
he was spat on and cussed out for the things that he had done.
All of the pain and stress came crashing through into his mind,
and in that field, the soldier cried.
Cried for the lives lost and communities destroyed,
he cried for the children who would never see their parents,
cried for the parents who died for their children.
He cried for his brothers in arms,
rotting on that mound.
He cried for everything that went wrong,
and the terrible things that went right.
The soldier,
he cried and cried,
not caring who saw him.
But with so much pain inside,
he could not stop.
He wrote a letter to his family,
drenched in tears.
He loved them and missed them.
He confessed all the things you can't ever say,
he wrote how he was dying inside,
each and every day.
He folded up the letter,
and put it away.
Then the crying soldier,
died that day.
A smile on his face,
a tear on his cheek.
 Bani-san · Wed Jun 17, 2009 @ 06:29am · 4 Comments |
