These Gloves (Have Seen It All) Poem by Tommy Szamosi

These gloves have felt winter's bitter cold,
They've held shovels when they were told:
Dig! Dig that foxhole soldier boy -
Then climb into your earthen bed and pray.

For providence plays a central role,
Thunder & lightning frames the patrol:
Fire! The earth shook, the gloves trembled -
But squeezed the trigger just the same.

How thick you are, my second skin, rejoice!
But you can't – sargeant lost his inner voice:
He caught one that split his Adam's Apple -
The red juice now squirts like a fountain.

These gloves now wear his redneck pride,
To stop the flow I tried – yes I tried:
He gurgled, “It's your turn now my son” -
Then he died with my gloves by his side.

I buried my face in those blood-soaked gloves,
And composed a telegram to the Lord of Doves:
Almighty King, from Heaven please send
An angel to declare a cease fire - so that the killing,
this nightmare of all nightmares, may finally END.