A Cigarette Comrade

A cigarette comrade -

  before I die

  my face is torn

  and my eyes are gone

  but if you hold it to my lips

  I can still draw the flame.

It matters not comrade -

  that we are foe

  I'm comfortable here

  in your hospital tent

  quietly bleeding into the dirt below.

Forgive me comrade -

  if I call my mothers name

  but it's so lonely here

  on your hospital floor

  and it helps me with the pain.

You weep for me comrade -

  please don't be sad

  the cowbells sound

  I hear the doves

  it is a good day for my life to end.

The butt is sodden comrade -

  and I leave you now

  goodbye my friend

  until we meet again

  far, far away from this African hell.

©Mike Subritzky

NZATMC AP Lima 1980

Rhodesian War