Washed Up
On a foreign shore.
On that fateful black night
So many years ago
Images etched into my soul
Deeper than I’d ever know.
Washed up on a foreign shore
No other survivors in sight
I drifted right past heaven’s door
On a black and murky night.
Ambushed and then forsaken
By those we trusted in
My brother was dead and wilted
By the coup de grace of sin.
Like rag dolls deserted
Engagement turned to killing
Rules broken and perverted
The morbid outcome chilling.
Left for dead and hardly breathing
Murdered comrades by my side
My heart was torn apart and grieving
All humanity cast aside.
Memories are now restricted
To counter agony and pain
Some details contradicted
To ward off going insane.
Released and gently floating
Chilly air and pitch-dark night
A feeling of foreboding
My comrades are out of sight.
A perfect rehearsed landing
The gathering of the chute
Rolling then upstanding
Mouths shut remaining mute.
The glaring of a spotlight
Spasmodic automatic fire
A hapless sordid sight
And instant funeral pyre.
Young lives were taken forever
Which angel saved my skin
A morbid scene that never
Will fade from deep within.
Details relived in nightmares
Betrayal and tortuous dealings
Seem to pale all other cares
Replaced by guilty feelings.
Delivered from the carnage
But struggling with life
With peripheral physical damage
But carrying the strife.
Perils past understanding
Mere moments come and go
Transformed, reformed forever
Reasons we’ll never know.
Saved by hands unknown
Then shoved and cast away
Pushed by the wind and blown
To live alone down by the Bay.
Discipline and good routine
Living a healthier existence
Leaving behind where I have been
Strong will and great persistence.
I am the castaway
And lived to tell the tale
The memories of the affray
Is now my holy grail.
They’ve taught me to remember
The sanctity of living
And is now my burning ember
To never cease in giving.
©
David Rudder
2023
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