The sun is a beautiful gold today, quite a specimen
so I focus on the sun
instead of the sounds of screams and gunpowder.
The bullets struck my stomach
and once I was down,
my leg, shoulder and foot-
the pain’s a b****
and the bullets are shredding through me
long after they’ve entered through my skin.
The blood won’t stop flowing
from my stomach, my mouth, my skin
and the medic isn’t superhuman.
Right now, my mother is probably gardening
and my sisters are out there with her
either laughing or fighting,
and the little boys and girls at home are playing
baseball, dolls, adventure games
unaware of war except for what they hear on the news,
and I am
probably not on their minds.
I can’t help but think
that by tomorrow
I will be gone.
I will be buried next to my father in the family plot,
bullets in my chest that mirror his.


No!
I need to breathe in the lawn
and see my house, my family again…
There is too much that I haven’t done:
I haven’t climbed a mountain,
made love to a girl,
swam in the ocean.
I can’t see except the blur that’s growing blurrier
and can’t focus on anything except the pain gnawing on my body.
I can’t think, I can’t…. I can’t… can’t… I...
My baby sister Sarah is splayed out on the lawn, taking a nap,
Anna face-down next to her.
A boom sounds in the distance
and the battle continues.