Nancy L. Meek


(My son, my son!) Here, let me help you!
Lie still now and try to rest just for a spell.
I’ve sent for the medic. You’re gonna be fine.
A few more seconds, you’ll be free of this hell.

Here, (son) hold onto my hand. Don’t worry.
You can’t hurt me. Just squeeze real tight.
Yes, I know, you’ve been wounded pretty bad.
But soon, it won’t be long, you’ll be alright.

Despairing eyes clung to his mother’s-in-arms
where he could see love… compassion… hope
willing him to breathe, to survive… to make it home.
“It hurts like hell… don’t know… if I can cope.”

Don’t worry (my son) you’re gonna live forever,
the soldier said to the hand stroking his brow
to the eyes rolling backwards, the closing lids
flying open, no longer needing his mother now.