War

• Marc Pittonet, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2009

I’m face down in a trench, my eardrums are bursting from the sound of gunfire.
I’m scared now, my battalion wiped out, hunted down like a pack of rats.
I am not afraid to die but that doesn’t mean I want to.
Their coming now I can hear them getting closer, gunfire getting louder.
I want to run but my legs wont take me, I want to escape this cruel, dark hateful place.
A boot appears beside my head, I fear it’s the enemy, that this is the end, I close my eyes and wait…. No darkness no pain. I peer up slowly thinking he did not see me, I looked straight at the face and knew him instantly, one of us, I was thought I was saved that they had come back for me.
He reaches out for me with a look of sadness on his face, I take his hand but he does not stop until he’s fallen over me.
I look at him face down a red hole in the back of his head.
There here now I’m sure of it, a boot squelches above my head…