Patricia Marie Pollock

Casualties of War

He is but a child himself.
Sent off to fight a war; longing for home.
The smell of death and fear all around.
Wondering why he's here.
Weapons of mass destruction?,
freedom?, patriotism?
Only 2 months to go, then home sweet home.
The sound of gun fire wake him from his thoughts.
His buddy sitting next to him is shot.
Children are running in front of the convoy.
His mind tells to stop or he'll run them over.
A voice yells over the radio.
DO NOT STOP! IT'S A TRAP!
His mind whirls in desperation,
The voice on the radio yells back,
This is a "DIRECT ORDER".
No matter what..
DO NOT STOP!
The sound of the children's bodies from
under the truck echo through his head.
Ripping his very soul from his body.
The thumping of his heart replaced
by the thumping of little bodies under the wheels.
The child inside the soldier no longer lives.
He died that day,
along with the children under the truck.
Only his body continues to exist.
His dreams of home sweet home are
replaced with dreams of death.
A young man goes off to war,
to return a empty shell.
Can not feel,
Must not feel.
The pain is too much.
He tells himself,
He did what he had to do.
But sleeps evades him.
The echoes of children in his dreams haunt him.
His comrades tell him to stay.
Reenlist, it's the patriotic thing to do.
No. He wants to go home.
He's done his time.
They turn against him.
Call him a coward, traitor.
He no longer belongs with them.
But home brings no comfort.
Home sweet home has been replaced
with an emotional casualty of war.
They do not understand his pain,
his secrets,
his shame.
He no longer belongs,
Doesn't fit in.
Just a lost soul that died with the children that echo through his mind.

Patricia Marie Pollock