Listen. Poem by John C. Smith

I lie; left for dead.
The Sun is on my face.
All sound of battle gone.
I hear a bird singing.
I cannot move to see.
I can only just see the tree
from where I lie.
Still it sings.
I hear a dog bark in the distance.
and the wind soughs in the tree.
It sounds like the sea
on the sand, sucking at pebbles;
moving them.
As the world slowly spins.
Above I can see geese;
a skein of geese,
calling to each other
to keep formation.
Stay together.
Keep in line.
I hear a baby cry.
But only in my mind.
There are no children
on the battlefield.
Among the discarded armour
and the swords of the slain.
There is only blood
and pain.
But I hear it anyway.
Now as I grow cold
I hear the silence.
The silence of a snowflake falling.
As it falls
and the sky darkens
I hear only silence.
Silence.
The voice of God.