Winter Soldiers Poem by Wesley Mincin

Winter Soldiers

Here in snow we sit and wait and pray that we succeed.
Here we wait and pray that our camouflage deceives.
Here we sit in silence as wind whispers in our ear.
Here we wait and pray while death reminds us of our fear.

In the thicket do I watch the enemy approach.
Dear Jesus, please forgive me, please to me, do not reproach.
All, at once, we rise and aim. Light flickers from my gun.
Three-seconds pass as does the echoes. Grey clouds hides the sun.

Once a white, blank canvas now blood soaks and strokes the snow.
I stare upon the bloodied body of my stranger foe.
Did he have a family like me? Did he have his dreams?
None of that really matters now. Death is wars old theme.

My men and I press toward the front. Deeper and deeper we go.
We leave behind identities for war is all we know.
War knows no empathy nor does it acknowledge care.
As soldiers we're in this together for pain is what we share.

We congratulate no one for killing. There is no winning toast.
Dressed in white like that of snow, we walk onward like ghosts.