Eyes of Anger

With the remnants of just an old rag;
He wiped away what was left of the day-
He's seen things he'd never speak of-
He'd heard things he'd try to forget-
With his face in his hands; And only for
this very moment; He was hidden from all
the world; He couldn't see it; It couldn't see him; and he was untouched by
the defeats of ridicule

He'd one day leave here; Return to what
was his; His by the law of man; His
by the blood of others that stood before; Fell before in the same place as he-
So he kicked off the dirt from his boots; Leaned his rifle no more than an arm
length away-
Then returned to the eyes of the dark
haired boy

Wartime thoughts scattered on this desert
land; One of it's own, died in his arms-
His sleeve stained with the blood of a
senseless anger- He'll forever feel the
weight of the boy's limp body-
Ten years old; He'd witnessed a lifetime
of pain; Cast into the shadows of
death without a hand to hold to

Tomorrow, he'll carry that rifle, and
fill the boots again with sand-
Tomorrow he'll pass by the place where
anger overpowers life; Tomorrow,
he'll see things, he'll never speak of-
And hear things he'll try to forget-
But he knows that it will be forever that
he will return to the eyes
of the dark haired boy-

© Lisa Hilbers
12/29/2005