Red Cross (A war poem)

Engines roar overhead,

Mud sated with thickest crimson.

Gold and bronze move fast as hummingbirds,

Fireworks announcing metal flight.

The roar of a rollercoaster,

Delighted yells.

That's what I wish I could hear,

But all there is is blood.

Thick, noxious,

Like the stench of mould left in the sun,

Like garbage on a hot, humid day,

Forcing itself into your throat to replace thinner bile.

Thinner, but only just.

Cheers are not here, they're screams of terror.

I still hear him crying for help, crying for mother; reaching with both arms, but only one hand.

My red cross, my only lifeline.

He is an enemy, he is on the opposing side.

He who cries for help, reaching out to me in desperation.

Thick crimson soaks his uniform.

Like red wine on white cotton.

I reach him, brambles tugging at my jeans,

But they aren't jeans. And there are no brambles here.

It is metal, like that which flies overhead.

He looks at me now with anger, he knows I am not on his side.

I look at him in hate, I know he is not on mine.

Rancid paraffin, rotting sanguine.

But in his eyes. He is scared, just like me.

He is a boy, not a man, just like me.

He shouldn't be here, he should be home,

Playing with his siblings.

We wear the other sides uniforms, we are the enemies.

Thick mud stains us, mud sated in crimson.

He sees my cross... he knows I will not hurt him.

I am his angel.

He tells me about his mother, waiting for him to come home.

I can't hear him over the fireworks, I barely see him over the smoke.

I shield him from flying metal. He is a child.

I am a child.

I do what I can. It doesn't matter what side he is on,

Sides never did,

Two hands gripping the head, we are two halves of one whole.

We were lied to.

I am deaf to his language,

I am blind to his uniform.

Crimson stains fresh gauze like red wine,

We are children, we should not be here.

I tell him I will help him.

His language is not mine,

But I try to use it.

"You will go home, I promise,"

But I'm lying.

My red cross cannot save him,

His blood feeds the earth,

I am such a liar,

As he grows cold and pale in my arms.

I wish I could tell her I'm sorry,

That you were a brave man.

But you are a child, like me,

And I never did learn your name.

Mud sated with thickest crimson,

Gold and bronze move fast as hummingbirds.

I shield as best I can despite knowing that you're gone.

My Red cross did not save you...

All I can hope is that you forgive me.

I'm so sorry.