Colin F. Jones


They prayed it would not hit him but it did,
It missed his friend; so their prayers came true.
One soldier died but the other lived,
Either way; what you think is up to you.
Shrapnel makes no choices nor does shell,
Bullets hit that which is in the way,
Call it luck, good fortune; call it Hell,
But praying won’t turn the bullet from its way.
It will be done that which will be done,
We die when that which kills us finds its mark,
For death is the true master and the gun,
Supports its ever patient wanton dark.
But we will hope and evermore will pray,
Despite the fact that death will have her way.