Parabats Poem by Gert Strydom

Smiting death when we parachute in,
flying on silken wings through the sky,
gathered in a brown storm
that sweeps in
and the enemy like puppets perish
where we land.

We cannot give back life
like God to tformed clay,
yet we are forced to take away existence
day by day
with machinegun, mortar
and rocket propelled grenade.

Fearless men ready to endure,
trusting in God alone.

[Reference: Parabats= South African airborne soldiers.]