Compassion Begins...and Ends

He slowly approaches his fallen foe

As tension fills the air,

And he warily scrutinizes

The crumpled figure lying there.

He remembers stern warnings

About booby traps he’s received,

But he’s young and inexperienced

And he doesn’t quite believe…

The other man is still breathing,

He can see the chest fall and rise;

His own breath stops in his throat

And sweat stings his eyes.

He sees the blood staining the ground

And hears a soft, pained moan;

Compassion wills him to aid this kid

As though he were one of his own.

His rifle wavers and then lowers

As pity conquers his fear,

Then the enemy’s eyes open wide...

And they are cold and clear.

The GI’s rifle swings back up

As he whispers for his mother,

Realizing the mistake he’s made

And that he’ll never make another.

© 11/19/2004 Thurman P. Woodfork

11/22/2004