He lies on its bank as the river flows,
cupping his hands to slake his thirst.
Time marches on but the minutes move slow,
his neck feels the warmth of a radiant sunburst.
Cupping his hands to slake his thirst,
he raises cool water up past parched lips.
His neck feels the warmth of a radiant sunburst,
and the violets grow as he gently sips.
He raises cool water up past parched lips
as breezes skim lightly over his skin.
The violets grow as he gently sips,
and life ebbs out as the water flows in.
As breezes skim lightly over his skin,
he recollects every promise he made,
and life ebbs out as the water flows in,
the debts on his promises yet unpaid.
He recollects every promise he made
as waters run cold and violets grow.
The debts on his promises yet unpaid,
he yearns for more time as cool breezes flow.
As waters run cold and violence grows,
time marches on but the minutes move slow.
He yearns for more time as the cool breezes blow
and lies on its bank as the river flows.
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Contest Winner
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Author Notes
When I wrote this poem, I was thinking of the scene of the soldier who died under a tree in The Red Badge of Courage. But it is not about the Civil War or any particular war - it is a poem depicting the dying moments of a young soldier in any war. As his young life ebbs away, he cannot help but thinking of all the promises he made himself or others that he will now not grow old to fulfill. As a person who has protested more than one war in my life, I want those who have had loved ones die in those wars know that I honor their lives. Anti-war sentiments are not a condemnation of those who sacrifice their lives, only a condemnation of those who sent them into harm's way. This poem is not meant to argue any political point, just to mourn loss.
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