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I didn't know his name.
by Dave FitzgeraldThe boy lay,
where
slain
His legs twitch,
he felt no
pain.
His torso fans out
in a dirty red
stain
Of cloth and bone and
brain.
The trauma, they said, will
remain.
Of him I dream,
his image
plain.
His
stain
imprinted on my
brain.
A soldier...
Without a name.
10/01/2007
Author's Note: Of another conflict.
Posted on 10/01/2007
Copyright © 2025 Dave Fitzgerald
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Rhiannon Jones on 10/01/07 at 12:03 PM I find this quite moving. Nicely done. |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 10/01/07 at 03:50 PM You describe the trauma very well and with a wonderful economy of words....Autraumatic weapon... Very well done. |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 10/01/07 at 05:32 PM ...dave, what paige said annnnd this: you describe (my words)"just another conflict" extracting el pain-o de vida and you speak painlessly from steeled nerves...good write, dave...heavy...peace, charlie |
| Posted by Alisa Js on 10/02/07 at 12:02 AM Intense and emotionally disturbing for the visual and heart breaking imagery. Well done.. aloha |
| Posted by Mo Couts on 06/21/11 at 03:26 AM Emotional, intense, and sadly beautiful. |
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