Broad back, strong shoulders,
neck held high,
in the muddy quicksand of doubt,
he stands strong.
Calling out to those who need him,
aware of the constant danger,
the falling rain,
shrowds him and his enemies.
He blends in with his surroundings,
a shadow of green and gray,
like a chameleon he waits patiently,
gun held high,
he takes aim.
A single shot rings out,
and the quietness surrounds him,
alone he feels lost,
yet strong he must stand,
his mission brings hope as well as death.
A bitter taiste upon his tongue,
the smell of burnt flesh,
blood stained leaves,
show the passage of the wounded,
are they friend or are they foe?
Following the bloody trail,
barely a sign of passing time,
minutes slip into hours,
hours into days,
a single ray of sun brakes the rain's veil,
he pauses on the hunt.
A glancce to the sky,
the sound of a flying metal bird reaches his ears,
the radio on his shoulder buzzes,
a friends voice calls him home.
"Come home, Im waiting" his wife has begged him,
"Be safe" his mother has written him,
tears mark their letters,
"I love you, Daddy" writes in crayon his three year old son,
gasping for breath they watched him walk away and into the war.
He lands on American soil,
his feet touch land and he is finally free,
he has fought the demons who would threaten his family,
he has fought and survived,
he is home his family gives thanks,
til he is called away again...
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