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