(A poem dedicated to a fallen hero, PFC Edel Llamas PA)
As the clouds clear up the sky, we travel,
No willing soul would've dared a rumble;
No course at present can make a future
As your last stand carry on others' lives:
You pelted a counter-rain of fires, blocks apart
Hitting bits of unseen opposite's counterpart.
While you saw the fiery pellets hit your soul,
You seemed unperturbed, no feeling of sensing pain;
You continued bursting up your last tranche;
As you laid down your breast in slow motion crest,
You flash a stained smile to friends' surprise shift
Your glorious downfall, while creeping to a cave safe.
No! Shouted one but the other held a grasp:
He saw you down posthumously drained on grass,
He said, it would've been mine, but he took it,
Carving a painful vanity as he laid down to rest:
The scene was unprecedented, in solemn berth
As heavy rains of fire bit the man to the earth!
The counting of shots, yes, twenty-one, matters not
Of fire's enfeebling hero's count as many as I'd recall:
I just say, my friend, all I can offer is a teary smile'r sigh,
As your face is fading out deep into the mud, resting.
My heart aches in much devotion and longing for sure
In the days to come, I'd be like you: still and pure.
Rains of fire, yes, that arrow-like pierce embed me too!
In your breast it drawn turbid marks, or mulled big pins.
We know one day, when luck no longer gives us favor,
we'd feel equally same fiery pain, as your soul's succor
in short breathe, in-split of dear seconds breathe, I say:
Yes, a soldier you are, a dear friend we can't forget easy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.