AFTER THE WAR- 2
(In the wood)
...Suddenly her voice fades. The pine trees vanish.
Grey mist moves over– shapeless monsters creep closer,
Obscuring her face. The sky is a black shell, he is moving within.
The winter sun bleeds, its dying rays, blurring the lush
Of pine trees, erasing the merriment of marigolds and poppies.
Dust dulls his mouth. The sweat in his eyes blinds him .
Someone, perhaps something, is laughs at him, mocks him–
A piercing shriek. Shells whistle–
The jeep hits a land mine. His friends–torn corpses.
His clothes drenched in Don’s blood. He presses his palm
To the gaping wound in Dan’s throat. Taste of blood in his mouth,
He inhales blood. Blood spots his face, hands, eyes –
Dan! He screams, Don’t die!
Dan is dead – Just like that.
The rage threatens again to swallow his sanity
Nausea chocks him, ghastly, helpless sensation;
His mind locks On the image of death...
Someone touches his hand –alight pressure.
He turns his head. Out of his chaos he looks
Into her uplifted faintly flushed face. vivid eyes.
Life - Love? “Yes,” he says.
She smiles at him. At that moment,
A light evening breeze begins to blows. The pine trees rustle,
Sparrow are chirping. Marigold and poppies in a merriment dance.
They look at each other. Tortured. He takes her hand.
They seat in silence, listening to their dead, their eyes following the
Winter sun, bleeding its last rays on the trees tops.