Colin F. Jones
To God he turns when the fire fight dies,
yet on his comrades in the fight relies,
for in the lull of battle one can muse,
aware that life he may yet lose.
Yet while the bullets fly and sing,
and shells and rockets blast everything,
God resides not in the mind of man,
who does for his comrades all he can.
For no man I think an Angel saw,
midst the smoke and death of bloody war,
nor squeezed a trigger with regret,
when on the battlefield the foe he met,
though in the quiet afterglow,
there is much from God he wants to know.
©Copyright July 27, 2003 by Colin F. Jones