The Last Patrol

The road was white Where the shelling stopped. The snow covered What the men could not. There was a boot Half buried. No foot in it. Only leather Waiting For a man Who would not return. The crows Came first. They are always On time. I washed my hands In a river. The water ran clear. It did not carry The blood away. It only made it Cold. There are things A man survives. There are others That survive him. When I lie down The guns return. Not loud. Just far enough away To remember. Morning comes. The mirror says I came home. My eyes Still haven’t. The doctor Called it living. The priest Called it mercy. The old men At the tavern Raised another glass To the names No one says anymore. I drank with them. Not because I was thirsty. Because silence Has a taste. When I lie down The guns return. Not loud. Just far enough away To remember. Morning comes. The mirror says I came home. My eyes Still haven’t. The young ask What war is like. I tell them The birds Still sing. The grass Still grows. The world Never stops. That is the hardest Part to forgive. When I lie down The guns return. Not loud. Just far enough away To remember. Morning comes. The mirror says I came home. My eyes Still haven’t. One day Someone else Will wear this coat. They will find Mud in the seams. Smoke In the wool. They will wonder Whose life It belonged to. Not knowing A man can leave Long before His body does.