A Soldier's Cost
Death, the soldier's friend, gripping those I have known
As mortars whistle in, exploding, charring flesh
That was once held in lover's embrace
My sense of reality is lost. My body moves of it's own
Volition...ducking, running, shooting, praying...
Praying to our Creator - amidst our destruction
Praying He hasn't left us in our final hours
Blood splatters my face, as the man who arrived
Just seconds after me is pierced by bullets...
Could have been me! I could have been free...
Free to watch this carnage from the safety of hell
“Charlie...Bravo...Zulu...One...Zero...Niner”...
Uuhh! “Two”...(gargle)...”Niner...Need immediate”...
My Radioman chokes on his own warm blood
As he calls for help into dead space
The silence is deafening; time and reality slow
As 'Doc', our Navy corpsman, tries to staunch the blood
And yet, there is no stopping that flow
'Radio', who's name is Jimmy, now rides the smoking wind
'Doc' slowly relaxes his body to the bloodied ground
Hanging his head between his knees, he wretches violently
And then retrieves the bloody tintype of Jimmy's wife
From hands that were grasping for love at the end
Is this the cost of Freedom? Of Democracy?
That one man's blood be spilled, so that another
Can be free NOT to vote, or pay their taxes?
So that America can say “FREEDOM LIVES”?
I stare around in awful, cognizant wonder
At the men that have fallen on this field...
Will they be remembered on the morrow?
Or will their memories fade to dust, as their bodies will?
The screams of the dying, the whimpers of the wounded
Crash into my senses like a tidal wave of nostalgia
Slowly, amid flying bullets, screaming bombs
I scribble these few words...
“IF I DIE FOR YOUR FREEDOM...CONSIDER THE COSTS”
Marcus Lewis
6/23/2009
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