is all that he hears
all that reverberates
in his mind.
the flashing images
like a horror film
up on the big screen
plays on repeat.
so much pain and torment
plagues his aging mind.
when will it stop
when will the memories
be erased
and cease to exist?
even after twenty five years
he can still see the fear
in the eyes of his soldiers.
they were young, children at heart
still wanting to be under their mother's wings
not prepared for the reality of war.
oh, a little fun
and games
they thought.
we'll play with the big toys
and be real men.
they never realized the gravity of the situation
until they fell
with bullets ravishing their bodies
and blood painting the dirt ground crimson.
over and over again, year after year
he wished he could turn back time
to tell the young generation
that war is not a rite of passage
that the battlefield will become their graveyard
and their ghosts will forever wander.
This is beautifully written. It makes me want to cry.
ReplyDelete"that war is not a rite of passage
that the battlefield will become their graveyard
and their ghosts will forever wander."
That's a powerful image.
I think that after this semester we have all been a little plagued by death.