The Soldier

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We do not speak,

We feel we will promise anything

Just to be spared.

Spared the horror if being buried alive

Spared the feeling of tons of earth;

Falling upon us.

Crushing our bones

Beams shiver over our heads.

The explosions keep coming

Earth is falling from the ceiling.

Suddenly; the bombardment stops

Over as quickly as it began

We clear the debris from the stairs;

Thankful to be alive.

What god is there as mighty as the fury of bombardment

More terrible than lightning

More cruel and calcualting than an earthquake?

How will we ever be able to go back to peaceful ways?

Hear pallid preachers whimper of puny gods.

Gods who can only torment sinners with sulphur

We have seen a hell that no god.

However cruel,

Would fashion for his most deadly enemies.

Who can live through terror laden minutes

Hearing nothing but drum-fire

Who can live through that ordeal and not feel reason slip?

Who can live through that ordeal and not feel his manhood dissolve?

We all prayed during the manic frenzy of bombardment

Selfish, fear-stricken prayers

Prayers for safety; prayers for life; prayers for air

Prayers for salvation from the death of being buried alive.

At home they are praying as well

They do not pray for the same things.

They pray for victory while we pray for life

And because they pray for victory

We must lie here;

Rotting and trembling forever.

The debris is cleared away

We climb to the top of the broken stairs,

It is quiet and cool

As though nothing has happened.

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