His open eyes, one catching the sun, <br />shining towards me – presumably <br />they still function optically: <br />recording, unmoved, unmoving, my presence; <br /> <br />this dead soldier, sodden in the ditch, <br />half his body peaceful, as if <br />welcoming his death; the other half <br />unmentionable; animals must eat; <br /> <br />his eyes recording my presence, yet <br />the brain now with no need <br />to question whether I’m the enemy; or friend; <br />the medic; the man who’s just shot him several times <br />at close range, standing over; or <br />the man he shot just now; <br />come to greet him as his newest friend.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-his-eyes-his-eyes/
