by Nick Andrea
The following excerpt is something I imagined from the perspective of an American soldier in a boat on his way to the beaches of Normandy, D-Day, June 6, 1944.
In the boat,
Beach in site,
Not a word being spoken,
Smell of vomit permeates the air.
Heading to my death,
Dressed in drab, green uniforms,
Carrying guns, grenades;
The machine at its peak.
Maybe I will get cut up the moment I step into the water –
Bullets, blood, and salt water.
What’s going to save me now?
“Heaven and earth treat humans as straw dogs.”
The universe cares not for my body, mind, persona.
A straw dog.
“At least we’re fighting for something.
The Germans have done awful things.”
But the body doesn’t care,
Throwing up, again,
“God is naked, wild, impartial.
His logic runs beyond human comprehension.”
But I am still alive.