Goodbye, Soldier

Morning on the Mine

Goodbye, Soldier

No trace of alacrity
in the young soldier’s once gregarious manner;
his once beaming smile
now a gruesome grin
or grimace
when he dismounts the steed;
his once booming voice
now a mumble and a stutter;
and beneath the war paint,
his skin a deathly pallor.
Rifle slung over his shoulder,
he loosens the girth,
takes of the saddle,
stirrups in a tangle.
From the trenches
the reek of death and decay,
burnt flesh and gunpowder,
gaping wounds
that pulsate,
at the teats of the corrupt,
wallow in sorrow
for yet another war
gone to fuck.

words and photography by Ramon Ramirez


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