Sunday, September 5, 2010

To kill another day.

I grew up in the city
When I was seventeen,
They told me I must go to war
For country and for King.
Forget the sixth commandment
As many others will,
Take this gun and bayonet
See how many you can kill.

I was fighting early morning
With the moon still in the sky,
Bayoneting the enemy
Praying not to die.
I was seeing comrades falling
Parts of bodies shot away,
And wandered if I want to live
To kill another day.

We made our camp that evening
Said prayers for those who died,
The preacher reassured us
That God was on our side.
I told him of the carnage
Asked what the Lord would say,
He said, “You just be thankful
You can kill another day.”

Three years I’ve been killing
Lost count of all who’ve died.
I’ve lost belief that there’s a God,
At least not on our side.
If he’s with the enemy
Then all that I can say,
He will also have to answer
For his sins on judgment day.


Browneyegirl145 said...

You paint a vivid picture of war and the way a person goes from feeling like a normal human being to feeling numb and nothing but anger. Beauiful job, compelling and heart wrenching at the same time. Alan as always, you words are honest true and intense. I hope I have been learning from you. We will see...I posted a little poetry. Not as good as yours of that I'm sure...but thank you for all that you have taught me so far. I can't wait for more!!! hugs...Joann

Always Abigail said...

You paint a picture of war that made me feel the pain of each and every person that ever defended that ever went to war.... Bravo