In No Man’s Land

There he lay,
In crimson bathing,
His lifeless eyes,
His useless body,
Laying still,
No more breaths,
For his lungs to fill
No more days,
Yet to come,
No more watching
The rising sun

There he sat,
With bloody hands,
For his fallen friends,
His lips shut,
No words to say,
No call to utter,
Or God to pray,
With anger filled,
He grabbed a gun,
And fired,
At that rising sun

And so,
Night took over day,
Yet close,
Death would always stay,
He sat silently,
In No Man’s Land,
With a message,
For Heaven to send,
Of grief, sadness,
And the beautiful dead,
A message which is nothing more,
Than sad

I was allowed to read this poem during Poppy Day, for a group of current soldiers stationed in The Netherlands, back on 11th of November 2018

Field Medic

I know bullets will stop me
But frankly I don’t care
Because when they’ll be screaming 
I have to be right there

I know that I’m not invincible
That I can surely die
I know that I can’t save them all
But I just have to try

I know that those bullets
They’ll cut right in my flesh and skin
They won’t hold before the barrier
Of my everlasting sin

They won’t care for those I saved
They won’t turn a second eye 
They’ll only care about this everlasting
Sweet and rotten lie

No one really understands 
The impact of what I see
The choices I have to make 
Of which I eventually flee

My life it’s not worth the risk
But theirs is what I protect 
And even though my halo’s broken
My wings shattered and wrecked

I’ll always stand guard 
For when the evil takes a bite
Even though I’m a medic
You can be damn sure I’ll fight

French soldier of the 147th RIF (Fortress Infantry Regiment) having a tourniquet following a leg injury, May 14th, 1940. Photograph by Gaëliger Klair