Friday, January 20, 2012

and then....

Green monster of moss
laying flat
if they think you're dead
they won't waste their bullets
trying real hard not to breath
not make one move
boots crunch tree limbs
all around
as I lay silent coward
pissing myself and praying to God.
I never wanted to be here
not anyone of us did
but here we were
trying to survive
without rules
kill or be killed
we'll take you home in a bag
if there's enough of you left to carry
tag an arm
tag a leg
enough for the ones at home
to bury a hero.
Keeps me recumbent
hoping for the most
quiet now
danger passed
I rise
feeling like a loser inside
How can I ever smile/cry again?
how can I hold my head up when all is lost?
Is it better to be
alive or dead?
What defines me?
Coward in the green
or a guy just trying to get by?
Rejoin the brothers of the unit
that made it
relief and smiles
pats on the back
but you know
just how low
your fear made you
survival of the fittest?
Or a black mark of treason?
Only God can judge.

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