In Life We Roam

We find ourselves cowering from their RPG's Grown fighting men being brought to their knees Kandahar is where we are so many miles from our homes Trying to keep focused but inside we steadily roam Incessantly we hear the zipping of bulleted lead Invisible to the eye, for they can bring us near to dead A silence suddenly falls amidst clouds of ashen grey As we suffer a direct hit, modern man finally plays In my peripheral I hear a scream, that I've never heard before Then I hear a pleading by weaponry in maiming score Upon the dust lifting, I view a blood stained earth Limbless my colleague is, is what we're fighting worth He's nineteen years old, so many miles from his home His body torn and burnt, where does his mind now roam "Medics, medics" now deafen the surrounding screams Shell shocked we are, grown fighting men beside crimson streams Our tour of duty is now over, us fortunate return to our kin As we remember he, our fallen, and their roaming in us within http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-8.php