The Young Soldier

Moonlight through the palm trees,

Streaks of silver cloud,

No sight distracts my screaming thoughts,

My conscience beats aloud.

 

Birds sing their goodnight songs,

Bugs whir like machines,

It’s not the noise that steals my sleep,

It’s seeing what I have seen.

 

Reeds as tall as full-grown men,

Line the water’s edge,

It will not help to wash my face,

It will get more filthy yet.

 

Nighttime brings me no relief,

From ever present heat,

To live will mean a thousand woes,

To die will mean defeat.

 

Mosquitoes make a prey of me,

They would bleed me dry,

I’ve heard the answers and the reasons,

But no one can tell me why.

 

As rockets light the evening sky,

I pray I make it through,

If God should bring me out alive,

God help me, what will I do?

 

© 2018 MILES VENISON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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