The unseen, distant guns in silence fall—
Time now for me to reckon with my pain;
And next to me my mate who gave his all,
Face down, in puddles from a recent rain.
I lift my coat to see if blood has stopped,
To see how much of my young flesh is gone;
Aghast, I find my rifle has been dropped—
Into the mud—my blood now pooling on.
The gun on which my very life depends
Corrupted now by earth admixed with blood;
Its barrel choked by dirt it did defend—
Perhaps no more to serve my mortal good.
Mud, blood, my friend—and still I smile to see
A bird in flight, soft singing sweet to me.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.