A Soldier Whispers to God:a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr
Mirror, mirrors all around and no reflection to be found and shadows seem to come and go with no intuition.
Affliction rises through the steam felt mist like a hateful fist; the blow something I have not felt in years.
Left in the tall cold wet grass with a ringing in my head fuzzy blurred vision, blood streaming down my arm in to a drip off my elbow and I keep telling my self the pain will pass
a broken nose and pride what more could I hide.
Wait just leave me here I whisper out to God, just leave me here I whisper it to Him again.
As the tears swell up in my eyes I know this is the end; so I whisper to Him again
let me think for a while
let me rest for a while.
Let me think for awhile about what has become of me,
I think and the world seems still bullets passing over me in seemingly slow motion.
My brothers falling and some running by,
I whisper to God again let me lie here and think of what I once had;
let me lie here bleeding my emotions out to you in the rain and mud.
I whisper even softer this time,
I know it's over, I know it's done and I have no feeling in me I can obtain.
No movement to the gears of my libs
I lie here a statue of this worlds brutal ambition of material things.
A chemically unevenness man that thought people cared about the same things I did; So I whisper to God one last time.
May I just lay here bleeding, I have no reason to get back up and fight not even the most deepest part of my mind can I find a reason or a will.
I slowly close my eyes and this will all be over, Amen.
By John M. Pride Jr.