*An original poem*
Light slowly fades,
shadows reach around us,
engulfing us,
wrapping us in their strong arms.
They conceal the horrors,
the secrets,
and the memories we keep.
Once settled, we cannot see.
Sound is muffled.
We are safe,
yet we weep.
We weep for those we knew;
the fallen ones,
the ones who didn't make it out alive.
Shouts, they ring out in the distance.
We are instantly alert,
fumbling for our arms.
We scramble out,
away from our safety,
into the cool desert air.
A solid wall of bodies approaches,
and weapons are drawn.
Everyone's ready to fight,
to win,
to die trying.
Multiple rounds of explosions.
All are down--
all except me, standing alone.
My knees give,
and my weapons fall.
Looking toward the sky,
I notice the dark is fading.
Morning is here, and yet,
through the fire,
I see the world as it really is.
Unfair and cruel,
fate and fatal,
that's the way we live.
I lie down,
needing some peace,
and dream of a distant place.
A place where even the angels can't see me weep.
