A silent pervasive force,
Consumes me.
The harrowing sense of hunger penetrates the air,
It fills me with dread,
With sadness.

The sound of a frail voice,
Begging.
Longing for water,
For comfort.

A child,
Blood streaked his face.
A face of anguish, 
Of terror.

The hurting,
The thumping in my chest, 
Is far more painful than injuries.
Gashes and tears do not compare,
To the bruises inside.

Now, I see.
Now, I feel.
Now, I understand.

Bright hues envelope me, 
The reds of blood-drenched soldiers,
The blues of a mother’s silenced cry,
The yellows in vast plains of decay,
Guilt whispers along these fields of death.

The arrogant sound of shooting,
 A desperate cry of a horse,
A soldier’s last words.
This is warfare.

Fields of terror,
Where pain reigns
Warriors once brave, mighty and strong 
Who wished for a brighter future
Have turned weak,
Ridden with pain and sorrow

Overwhelmed in agony,
Sleeves torn,
Soaked in crimson,
I lay.
Awaiting my death.

This death feels real
I will die feeling,
I will die knowing,
I will die understanding


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