Ordnance

The ground trembles,
roaring fills the air.

Far-away guns shake the earth,
sending death into the skies,
only to rain down somewhere else.

Flash of light,
brilliant within a cloud of death-dark smoke,
from this far one can only see the smoke,
close by,
instant death by shrapnel.

Second passes,
then another,
before the immense destruction speaks its name.

The thundering of the grenades striking,
ripping apart,
killing,
fills my ears.

Even here,
safe in a trench,
watching through binoculars,
the air lashes at my face.

The sheer power of destruction,
the vastness of it.
It fills me to the brink of my soul.

I am the eye that sees the foe,
I am the mouth that speaks the orders,
I am the hand that holds the gun.

At the sight in my eye the enemy is uncovered,
at the will in my heart are the commands given,
at the sign of my hand is hell unleashed.

I am death incarnate.

To be the doom of my enemies,
to be the fist that delivers the killing blow.

'Till the day I seize to breathe,
the grenades will never stop raining.

Not within me.