He breathes slowly
inhale, exhale
inhale, exhale
his heart slows down
his fingertips welcomes the seeping cold
the world turns silent
no longer can he hear
men screaming
bombs erupting
guns blazing
instead he hears her sweet voice
pleading for his return
he hears the wind whistle across the tallgrass prairie
he feels the bark of an aging oak
his mud stained hands now
touch dying grass scattered across No Man's Land
caresses it like a lover
leaving his beloved before a journey
he turns his eyes to the skies
he prays with his final breath
a soldier's prayer.
i can feel the dying soldier.... somehow i see what he sees, hears what he hears... and in the end its not sadness but a sence of fulfillment... thats how well your written it. I have to say that this is my new favorite. well done :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
all i have to say is well done, a nice piece of poetry