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Luke Haynes Poem
The naïve youthfulness fades,
A party to celebrate life and remind what will be left behind.
A mothers anguish, stressed, anxious and fearful,
An embrace, longing and full of love that only a mother can give.
A man to young to shave stands tall and proud
The call came, years of training for this very moment.
He closes his eyes, sees the smiles, and feels the embrace
Eyes open, heat from the very pits of hell washes over
The air dry and harsh on the chest with every breath
No longer surrounded by loved ones, instead military equipment replaces human faces
The embrace is no longer loving, its heavy, uncomfortable, and necessary
A reminder that this new environment is not one kindness.
Whistling death falls from the sky
A man-made meteor with horrendous consequence
The reaper stands on the periphery, a grim smile under a dark hood
Men and women laugh in chorus, like the angelic voices of a church choir.
No fatalities today, the laughter a release, one more day on the earth
The man of eighteen, aged, weary, and thankful
The radiance gone, replaced by a toughness harder than steel
Cracks in the distance, the night sky illuminated with embers.
The harrowing sound of the gods fly over head
Followed by a display similar to New Years Eve celebrations
An echoing cheer, good has defeated evil in this small skirmish
The call comes, patrols into hostile areas must be taken.
An explosion followed by gunfire hitting vehicles like the hardest hail storm
A soldier, a son, a friend, cries
Fear hits like a punch from a boxer, followed sharply by the shield that was training
Action to be taken, fellowship holds true.
Brothers and sisters care only for those around them,
Ready to make the ultimate sacrifice should it come calling
A soldier down, the reaper has his due
Evacuation is swift, but the pain is no more, only rest now.
Eyes closed, best uniform on, smart, sharp, a soldier through and through
The room is dark, space is tight, the sound of despair all around, no faces to be seen
The noises quieten, the air heavy, a stone of pure white marks this space
A mother, a folded flag, a hole in her heart
The boy, the man, the hero, gone but never forgotten.
Copyright © Luke Haynes | Year Posted 2022
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