It is the eyes that see far away
A piece of time where peace may lie
Behind the sounds of firing at anything that moves
And everything is moving.
It is hearing in the ear a whisper
From someone living distances off
In a foreign country
Once known as home.
It is the silence of the mouth,
Hidden with the pain of feeling only
The half consciousness of the body
Screaming for all to stop.
It is hair ruffled and slick with sweat
Of fear trickling down like a rain
Of shrapnel tearing reality
Into tiny segments of truth.
It is the face few ever see
Except those standing, kneeling by,
And the face someone miles in memory
Can see as once lit
With all the smiles of living
Not knowing if there is anything left
That will make its laugh loud
And its voice gentle in quiet nights
Or if it will be seen again.