The night embraced me as  a new found lover; her arms folding around me in a sweet hug, I feel asleep beneath the pines and elm trees, their leaves my pillow.

I felt the wind grasp my hand, gently rustling my hair, the rain, so sweet upon my lips, her kiss, sweetly placed there, my mind a swirl of delight.

Into the night we went, our eyes held closed to sweetly dream of home, sweet home, the green fields ready to be harvested.

Mother making bread in the kitchen, father out in the field.



It was a beautiful day, too beautiful to be here, dying in the bloody rainy fields of some far off land.

“Keep forward!” the leader yelled, pointing forward.’

We saw the tanks rolling over the field, pulling forward into some of our deaths.

“Green!” I yelled as my comrade to my right fell underneath the tracks.

There was not a sound.

The birds no longer chirped, the sky was a blood red, brilliant in its movement.

We held up in a trench, our backs pushed against the walls, a scar in the flesh of Mother Earth.

We took turns guarding the gathered troops, it was our duty to warn when the monsters would charge again, the enemies’ guns firing through our flesh.

We did not hear the falling bombs, but here they came, dropping from the sky, whistling, slamming into the earth, ripping flesh from young men’s skin.

The screams were heard throughout the land, we, the survivors held close to the land, our bodies pressing hard into the soil, trying hard to dig ourselves deep into her protection, into her womb, we did not hear the last bombs fall, we only heard the death around us, the last screams, the last breath of a fellow man.

And by morning, only half of us made the march another trench.

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