Three Meter Zone | JD's Bunker | Poetry | Chapel | American Journal


 

A soldier's cry

By

Lawrence W. Spradley

 

A soldiers cry

High in the air, soldiers fly
Ocean waves, some travel
across ground they move
Most never even said “bye”

A soldier's cry isn’t heard
Far away from home
Afraid and all alone
Memories faded and blurred

Fighting a foreign nation
In a war tense formation
Stresses mount as rifles fire
The American soldier will not tire

In the cold they lay
In the snow they stay
In the rain they don’t complain
A soldier's hope, always remain

Dreams shatter as buddies’ fall
Red with blood the snow tainted
Screams of fear, the voices painted
The wounded soon begin to squall

One by one, a soldier dies
Bullets strike chests
Bullets strike heads
All over the soldiers lie

Mystified as hauntings linger
So far away the soldier cries
Slowly, squeezing a finger
the soldiers’ bullet soon flies
Suddenly stopping the aggressor
The soldier asks, “Who is the transgressor?”

Grave’s scatter across this land
For soldiers who took this stand
For every soldier who died
Is a soldier who once cried

National cemeteries blanket with stones
In rows, the soldiers final formation
Listen closely to the soldiers’ moans
Look at the solders that gave to our nation

Some soldiers didn’t die
A cold welcome they came
Mocking, they are not to blame
A soldier who once tried
Living, a persistent pain
Of memories left; vain
Can you hear their cry?

Somewhere a soldier cries
Not for money or fame
For us all, you and I
A soldiers life; all the same
This soldier shares no shame

Don’t let our soldiers languish
Remember our fellow patriots
Remember and Feel their anguish
Hear the soldiers’ soft sigh
Don’t let our soldiers cry



© copyright Lawrence W. Spradley

July 27, 2000