As the pale moon rises for the night
I regain consciousness once more
blinded by the candle by my bed
its cheerful light shows warmth
the yellow flame making shadows
across the white washed walls
The pain hits me harder than a fist
my left arm bandaged over the shot wounds
I feel very weak and cold
despite the woolen blankets
wrapped tightly round me
Then a fire is lit in the grate
and two large shadows offer me bread and soup
trying to hide their faces from me
as if ashamed to show them
I begin to feel warm inside
as the small fire burns bright
the hot food that the strangers give
helps to restore some of my lost energy
which I lost in my fall
during the terrible battle
The strangers reveal themselves
stepping into the light
I begin to shake as I recognize them
the only other survivors of the battle
which nearly destroyed them
One of them has lost an eye
the other an ear and an arm
all three of us have lost our families
to the foolish enemy
who thought they’d won
Brothers we are free at last
and although the rest of you
now cannot join us in our new struggle
we will join you in death
and even if our bodies fade
the memory of our efforts will remain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow! What a battle it must have been. sounds like you had the least serious injuries...... unless the arm got infected, maggots swarmed over the rotting flesh, and a sawbones had to diminish your limb by half. at least your were still able to write a stirring poem! to MyPoemList. Happy Fourth of July! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! oh, yeah, in THAT war, you guys lost. bri :)