One Mans Land
With bags under his weary hazel eyes,
no rest, no sleep, watching the line.
A mound of dirt cluttered with casings,
machine gun on mount, at the ready.
Smoke overhead the sun barely pokes through,
battlefield stays dark, night and day too.
Vultures circle above, barren death marked earth,
unable to feast, no stomach to girth.
Body caked in dirt, empty belly churns,
tattered battle dress uniform, showing powder burns.
I'm a view, such a poor sight,
thousand yard stare, this is my plight.
Tired, hungry, thirsty, senses, my current enemy,
avoiding passing bullets, falling shrapnel near me.
Maintain my position, duty, honor, sworn oath,
if enemy approaches, kill, maim, or both.
Weapon is loaded, and ready to go,
its kept me safe, this I know.
I'll die before, giving up this ground,
this plot of dirt, it's my mound.
My relief will come, don't know when,
I'll do what it takes, until then.
If I die today defending this spot,
this mound of dirt, this barren plot.
Lord knows I did all i could,
my life sacrificed..as, good warrior would.
Live or die, two actions I see,
already accepted, its Gods choice..not me.
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