"The Hour of Youth"

By Chris Walden

The reality of war, as

the shells scream overhead,

we can only go on

when our comrades lay dead

My comrades and I

run deep in the fray,

victory is ours -

when we drive evil away.

I see my friends fall

at the sound of a drum.

Though we made it this far,

my body has gone numb.

Only I am left now,

my friends order me

"Go ahead! Go ahead!"

As my friends now lay dead,

I have no choice instead,

but to fight on ahead.

The shells and the bullets

seem not to slow me;

in a holy vengeance

of which the creator saw fit

to divinely bestow me.

I fight on, fight on!

The checkpoint in sight!

And nothing can stop me

with my holy light!

For my people's army,

I have secured a new base.

And living soldiers arrive

from that death-ridden place.

I rest for a moment,

and look at my wound,

which the medics stare helpless

at which should be my swoon.

I take but one step,

and that mortal pain returns.

My time is ending,

my holy light adjourns.

The war so drags on,

men dying in time. I am

writing, writing, writing

this diary of rhyme.

So I was invincible

for almost an hour,

to defy the darkness

that threatened to devour.

I lay dying indeed,

my wound still to bleed,

my holy aura to fade,

among the blood that I wade,

and with my poor comrades -

I stayed.