A Soldiers Dream
By Chip Marks

This thing that does not heal.
This weapon I have become, it fires with no more home.
I could never find a place a dream could grow.
These dark seconds at that moment of my transformation.
You see these holes that have torn through me.
Those rounds burn through, cauterizing veins.
That that flows through my heart.
Never to pass through me again.
I feel less then myself.
Stranger I have become.
There is no home this sepia morning.
Last chance to see a fleeting me.
I will never remember as my past slips to flat line emotions.
I am here, weapon I have become.
Casualty in this second breath.
Enemy around these corners, place that we hide.
These trades we make for a freedom,
last turn on my way home.
Things I wish I could remember lost in this dusty haze.
Sands of my time slipping through my fingers.
All these things for you,
and I don’t even remember your name.
Something I knew in another life.
Galaxies that swirl beyond my grasp,
just planets dancing in lost time.
Tears of goodbye on our last night, slow dances remember.
But not me… a moment of sleep without dream is all I wish for now.
Executioners last glimpse in my restless slumber.
If I could only dream of last kisses,
blue eyed wisps of your hair as it touches my face.
Only the moon remembers and you.
Only you remember who I used to be,
innocence turn, sparklers on a summer night.
Those picket fences I miss so much.
Symbols of this righteous fight.
Even if won I will never know.
For this thing I have become.
I give to you everything good
All the dreams of love and freedom and innocence.
And so, this thing that will never heal,
a gift to you from me.
Sinking in this sand,
someday I will see the color blue again.
Oranges will rise for me as gentle innocence settles in my arms.
Safe and free, do you remember me.