Death of a Man
“Oh god I’m dead,” he desperately cried
Looking up at his friend as he bled and died
“My life is over, a ghost to forever wander
On this battlefield of death and plunder.”
His friend held him tightly as his body grew cold
So young he was that his hair was still gold.
His eyes grew dark and his face fell slack
The final shudders wracking his back
The ghost looked down at his corpse lying there
Now seeing his friend close his empty stare
The soldier cradled in the arms of his friend
Singing his own last mass fading into the wind.
“Oh Lord in Heaven, I am cut down in my prime
By the enemy’s bullets before it was my time
Inviting death into my body, the unstoppable flow
My blood falls and stains the muddy snow”
The company laid him out in a shallow grave
Then a murmured prayer for the chaplain so brave.
“Oh merciful God above this war torn sky
Will I be mourned, will anyone know why
I lived and died in service of your son?
Now I wait at the end of my last run.”
Then in a shower of light the ghost was gone
Leaving the helmet and rifle marker in the gray dawn.
“Here lies Father Charles Edmund Glen,
Chaplain of prayer who valiantly took a
Bullet for his best friend.”
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