Collateral – William P. Nixon

William P. Nixon

His wee child’s body flutters
down on the barren sand.
Barrages of rifle fire continue
and the cannons of tanks
spew fire and smoke all about.
When out of a mortal slash
in the groin of the hill there
rushes the Enemy in a wave,
making a desperate attempt
to free themselves from ambush.
The firepower tears at them
And all the many fall dead.
Except a woman comes running afield
through bullets and shrapnel that
will not to touch this brave mother
on this hell-bound day
as she runs through the chaos crazily
toward the wounded child,
scooping him up at last,
running away zigzag.

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