The Gun is Heavy

Silent are the guns that shot,
The ones which now lay dead.
It was battle long and not easy fought,
For now the snow is crimson red.
So cold the frigid air,
The sweat freezes upon my crown.
From afar I hear the orders blare:
“Check the house for rival down!”
On I go, upon my orders.
No scar or scratch upon the house;
Unscathed by gun or heavy mortars.
But full of filth and dirty louse.
My flooded boots splash and pop.
The oaken door stays opened wide.
Stifled sounds make me stop.
Over the moon, shy clouds slide.
No light shines from within,
The room is furnished with nothing, save disgust.
And soft are the sounds from the outside din.
My gun is heavy, my eyes adjust.
I scan the room. All is clear.
Still to check, the top remains.
Further noise boosts my fear;
My rapid heart and icy veins!
Slippery are the stairs, now stained red.
Claws of fright grip my heart,
Lack of know explains my dread,
My highest wish: to depart.
Upon the floor some corpses lay,
Death and musk fill my nose,
Their open wounds on display.
Senses high, I rise upon my toes.
Against the wall a form - it trembles.
Terrors cause my heart to gasp.
A young boy: a friend, he resembles.
I hold my gun in firmer clasp.
His pleading eyes, pleading eyes-
“I – I have no harm!”
His broken English could be lies.
My gun is heavy, I tense my arm.
Justice weighs within my hand.
Mercy flickers, but so does hate,
His life I now command.
Rage is mine to satiate.
The orders are to take them living,
Warring code I should obey.
But could I be so forgiving?
What to do in this disarray?
How many ours did his sights capture?
His death would make it fair.
To seize his blood --- a rapture?
But could his taken life I really bear?
“Please, please no shoot!”
His finger shines bright gold,
One detail so minute,
It begs the questions which are bold:
What’s her look? Her age? Her name?
Maybe they have a child?
Would his blood leave me shame?
Oh, my heart would be reviled.
Stained like stair and snow,
My hand would be.
But is his unchecked more blood flow?
Might he anon forego my comrade’s plea?
Woe! what answers be, for this demon quiz?,
Should he escape the reaper’s grasp?
For judgment is mine, but mine is His,
Oh, tempt me not thy evil asp!
My gun is heavy!
Shall I make him lame?
To take his legs would be the levy,
Better my soul it’d be to maim.
But are my brothers lost for naught,
If their foe should see the sun?
Was not his death for what they fought?
What scene this is! Some devil’s pun!
How ill the plan of fate!
In my pause his chance does rise.
For my choice may be too late,
His pistol aims to my demise.
Curious is our destiny,
Its mocking laugh; some shrill shriek
Which of us goes free?
For his gun is heavy, I see him weak.
Barrel to barrel, which will it choose?
Stiffened digits begin to pull.
Tonight, one must lose.
The cov’nant cup now is full.
Each man a final breath,
One taut thread, close expired.
One loses, the other escapes his death.
The guns are heavy, a shot is fired.

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