The jungle was speaking to me
in its ceaseless
chattering of the night.
The predators here
are not animals
they are humans
they have guns and weapons
to which there is no defense.
Only survival is to attack first.
Is that the real
law of the jungle?
I think of my father.
what would he do?
He always knows
klwhat to do.
It occurs to me
how much a boy
needs his father
in such bad places.
The rain of gunfire
chatters like fireworks,
tracer bullets leave
a glow in the dark night.
almost pretty to watch.
I should not be here
I am eighteen, why me?
I never won a lottery
but my draft card
came up lucky.
for someone else.
I stand up as the offensive
increases in its intensity.
The bullets rip
across my chest.
I am falling
no pain just silence
beautiful silence.
The last breath I take
is gifted to the woman
that bore me.
I whisper
I love you Mom