Private Hart

The blood runs in and out……

-Clothes soaked through to black sheens,

-Hold words, a moment’s silence for army greens.

Fingers press tight and blinding pain…..

–“Hoist up! By arms and legs and hold tight

–Lets guide this boy on to the light,

–If he be wrong, may Satan have the right!”

Wheezing and crystalline breath as legs scramble back…..

-A sniper’s claim has been made on him

-And down goes he on a trigger’s whim.

Dust goes up, shock and gasps, quivering lips…..

–“Lay him down here! Check for breath,

–There is no stirring of his lips, he’s found death,

–Find place for him, we’ll guide him to heaven’s breadth!”

Hands scrabble for stone, dirt stains skin…..

-The cross he bore upon his neck hangs low,

-For it marks the make of the Mighty’s brow,

Stab in the lungs, Oh God…Oh God…..

–“Find his tags, lets have his name,

–Call forth the chaplain from the rain,

–In death may we pardon him shame!”

Cold and hard is the ground and it blends……

-Though he was struck down by lead,

-Let not we mistake him for rightfully dead.

Cold spine, cold skin, eyes begin to blur and blur,

–“Shovel hard!! Through and through

–Let the cold earth break to you,

–This man deserves a burial all true!”

Heart beats heavy, muffled like a pillow on the head,

-This is what becomes of war

-Too many dead, their time before.

Thump softer–thump softer–soon its gone

–“Down in an oak house we bid goodbye,

–Let no man be man if he thinks men don’t cry,

–We weep and must mourn with soft sigh.”

Soft sighs–slow breath lightly, giving in to sleep, dull sleep,

-So here lies an epitaph and be forewarned,

-That medals do not follow you to be adorned.

Eyes unfocused: On God! On God, bring me to your door,

–“Heap the earth heavy and bury this man’s soul,

–And let us not forget his name–or his goal,

–Let us to the enemy and exact a vengeful toll…..

On God, blood wet and cold and stabbing breaths–this is war.

Let me then to you and your door, this Earth I desire not a second more.