I Am Tired Now

I am tired now
and there is sand in my eye -
a grit of tears that blinds.
The sun is too loud, too hot
and I am tired.

I have rested here too long -
and I wonder how much longer
to bake in the dust and dirt
and think of girls waving -
a whisper of goodbye, no more.

May was her name,
or perhaps it was Eve -
I forget now
though she will forgive me,
I am sure
for missing her last waltz.

She twinkles and dances and laughs -
I see her now against the sun,
surrounded by her admirers
and the sons and daughters
we might have had.

Ah but I am tired
and the numbness grows -
reaches up and out,
a wetness of unfeeling,
grasping at the heart of me.
It starts with pain
and ends in endings.

And they will mourn me
for a little while,
the girls and all those others
too shy to take my hand
and share my fate.
Perhaps I should scream again,
as I screamed before,
against the fall of shell,
the deafness of shot.

Ah, but I am tired,
and it is a tyranny stronger than combat,
stronger than any foe, and the air is thin,
cleaner now, and set in diamond white light,
and you are far away,
my friend, and further yet.
I shall rest now.