Becoming Mud

Bleak night, last hours, under fire in the mud, enemy comes Grenades blast, riffles fire, blinding ends, relentless rain Freezing men in trenches hide behind dulled blades Bayonets forget the future and the past Uniformed souls for glory charge ahead Then the long haul in covered soil starts Grueling battles take them one and all Wrinkled fingers wet, pull the trigger Foxhole converts keep Jesus close Crawling in the dirt to die Climbing over bodies in the dark Voices buried, a cry is heard, fatality Killed men don’t pray They lay down in the mud Become the mud when fallen dead Seen through brief flashes Gun fire silhouetted A kaleidoscopic light View of death down in the trenches Down in the ugly mess they made