In This Furnace Of The Lighted Edge, A True Hero For Our Time

 
look
now will you look at that
felled brutally felled old testament
and in his prime
twenty-four
near the forward line
sliced down
cynically scythed by a devious coward
not surprising though
for we should all know by now
this is what they are all like
each and every one of them
but even in such a conflict there are rules..

writhing anguished on the unyielding ground
in this furnace of the lighted edge
his face contorted in the muddied slosh
eyes watering  stinging from flares and smoke bombs
the pain shoots like silver lightening up his spine..

and while prone and with little mobility
clear as a bell like terminal lucidity
when you are in this so-called game you know
you know such a thing might happen
comes with the territory
many have fallen before you without ceremony
you know that..

in sharp waves the pain roils
he twists and open-mouthed silently screams..
there is a melee and curses
a whistle and gruff shouts as the cavalry arrive
they race towards him
then protectively surround..

deftly three or four men examine him
then one stares straight into his eyes
it is bad i cannot lie to you
get ready we are going to lift you
possible evac on standby we have a carrier..

ferried away on the stretcher
he proudly raises an arm to show his men
carry on carry on..
and what sounds like circuiting fried electric rain replies
not only in his mind..

though sweating and losing consciousness
he has shown all that he has the bottle
he has to be the shining example
but his heart sinks when the medic whispers ominous
captain afraid it looks like a suspected torn metatarsal
you could be out for up to six weeks..