Finding The Words

A draw of a cigarette.
The smell of alcohol on his breath.
Face and hands of leather.
Laughter, even in the face of death.

Immortality now in question.
He drags, from his shirt pocket, another smoke.
Sips another sip. Smiles that old smile.
"Cancer," he says, "as if it were a joke."

"Never thought I'd live to see it.
"All the things that almost killed me,
"and its not even in my lungs.
"But, its not as bad as I thought it'd be."

"I know I wont see the year's end."
He smiles and drags another puff.
"Treatment might help," he says.
His face reads well, the old man is tough.

"I love you grandson."
With those words, I wake.
He's been gone many years.
I've always felt it a mistake.

"Take the phone. I can't hear him!"
The last words I ever heard him say.
I should've gone to see him.
I live with that every day.

Regret was not in his vocabulary.
He never allowed the bad memories to torment.
I strive to be that strong.
In his memory, I embrace every moment.

But once in a blue moon.
My mind allows me to see him and right the wrong.
Merely a fantastic dream,
almost makes up for the tears in a song.

The radio plays, I find it comforting.
He always said to allow myself a cry.
I do, I allow the tears to converse.
As if to say, "I love you old man, goodbye."

Our Hill

Dawn breaks, we sneak.
Matt and Marcos close behind.
Sergeant beside me, he slows.
We follow suit, my gut begins to wind.

Our nerves are shattered.
Our friends are lost.
In silence we seek the enemy.
Destroy them at all cost.

Sergeant pulls the pin, nods at us.
As his grenade finds its place in the dark,
the morning's silence is shattered.
Time to make our mark.

We open fire and all hell breaks loose.
Another down, and another.
We all cry as dogs of war.
Killing as many as we can for our fallen brothers.

No commandments on our mind.
We shall kill this day.
Honor our brother in life.
That is our way.

Another enemy falls,
for each of our dead we kill ten more
Another brother falls,
we can't allow them to even the score.

Boys become men
Men become ghosts
The time for battle was now
and we were the gracious host.

For Johnny! For Troy!
We annihilate in thier name.
Then, a buzzing of hot lead.
A machine gun to blame.

Sarge cries out,
"Get that foxhole, boys! They'll kill us all!"
I jump, Marcos jumps
Matt takes a hit, then a fall.

He looks at me, reaches out his hand
The buzzing returns, he's hit to many time to count.
"Boys!" Sarge yells,
"You get up there and take 'em out!

"We've got to secure that hole!"I yell.
Marcos and I outrun the gun.
Bayonets at the ready, we stab and slash.
Secured the weapon, but the fight was not done.

Just a few more left
I wanted the flag, to take the hill!
Pain, I look down. Blood drips from my stomach.
I try to press on, my body doesn't have the will.

I fall, cry out for a medic.
Marcos, he comes to my aid.
I look up in time to see the bullet rip his jaw.
Then, my vision began to fade.

We both lie there motionless.
The bullets recede, the battle is won.
"We did it, Marcos." I grab his hand.
"The mission is done."