Mercy

A sad poem. We need more friends. More kindness.

                        Mercy

Young black man.
22 year old.
He sat alone and ate alone in the mess hall for many days.
I watched him and wondered why?

I knew great pain and understood his face and eyes.

I started to sit with him.
He said nothing for many meals.
Other Soldiers said he was crazy.

One morning at breakfast.
He looked at my eyes direct.
He told me.
"Some of the poor men were still alive at Death valley. They were still breathing.
Pieces of bodies speaking in a foreign language. I held so many of them. All I could do is listen."

His eyes filled with tears. He asked me.
"Was there any purpose for this war?"

I looked at his sad eyes. I told him.
"You did all you could. Mercy of someone hearing your last words allow the poor men to move to the next place with the vision a kind heart. Not the bloody s**t of war."

He got very quiet for a time. He whispered.
"All I see is death and blood in my dreams. I can't see any good in my life now. What can I do?'"

 I took him to Virginia beach. Not many people in the late months of winter.
I made him drink many long Island ice teas.
We drank till we could barely see anymore.

We wandered down to the Virginia shoreline.
He watched the Atlantic dance on the shore.

He turned to me. Asked me? "What the f**k are you trying to do to me?
Why don't you leave me alone?

I passed the whiskey to him.
I told him. "We have been lied to. No-body care if people live or die. We were just mercenaries for money and oil. Let's scream to the Gods. Lets scream into the wind. Tell the world to f-off. Then maybe we can find the mercy to forgive ourselves."

He gave me a big smile. Told me. "You are damn crazy."

He stood up and started to run down the ghostly night beach.
Screaming and crying.
He ran into the sea.
Yelling 'kill me, end my bloody life."

I swear I saw someone with him.
I tossed my wallet to the sand.
I went into the cold sea to get him.
He was waiting for me.

I wrapped my arms around him.
He smiles and told me. "I'm Okay.
I know I must forgive myself.

He turned and looked me in the eyes.
He whispered. "Thank you for the mercy of your friendship. No-one came when I was alone and afraid. I prayed for forgiveness. You forced me to face my life."

He looked at the morning sun rising from the east. Told me. "I'm done with the Army. I won't touch a gun or hurt another person."

A month later at the Greyhound bus station he was going home. I went to shake his hand. He grabbed me and gave me a bear hug. Kissed my forehead. He told me.
"Mama will heal me with her love. Baby sister will insure I'm alright. And I remember your face and what you gave me.  You gave mercy to a man in need."

                Coyote

Author's Note

Some stories reappear. This is a real story. War leave no winners. Just living casualty of what was done and must be learned to live with.

Reviews

[Cryingkate]

I vision the day, when two armies go to battle on the ground.
They drop their weapons and, mix themselves and be seated on the ground.
Anything they send from overhead to punish them all can only be done so many times.

Somewhere in the depth of man we finally say ENOUGH. When we finally see we serve each other and not divided nations,Man must come forth to man and not under a false umbrella of rule.

When we know our true strength and awake. There will be peace on earth.

[Coyote Poetry]

I hope one day we can find peace. Soldiers, poor people in the way of war pay the price. The great cities of Asia and Africa are being destroyed. Millions are homeless. My wish for Christmas is we learn to send food, water and medicine. Begin the world healing.

[Cryingkate]

I heard that was done, however certain ones put up blocks barricades and cut off roads so it couldn't get through.

[Hoosier Belle]

We have been lied to. No-body care if people live or die. We were just mercenaries for money and oil. Let's scream to the Gods. Lets scream into the wind. Tell the world to f-off. Then maybe we can find the mercy to forgive ourselves."

I must just say WOW to this part. Such depth here. when you feel you just can't win and want to give up scream into the wind. Yes sounds good to me. Awesome write, powerful and amazing!

[Cassie Fraga]

very powerful piece I truly love it!!

[∂αʌ<..]

" The quality of mercy is not strained;
it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It belesseth him that gives and him that takes"
shakespeare- The Merchant of Venice.

a very strong story...you give us good moral stories to ponder at, Coyote!
thank you. :)

[Susanna F]

No matter the place or the job, showing kindness to someone in pain is always a good deed. Well done.

[Dahlia Phoenix]

This sad story brings a lot of thoughts to one's mind when we think about these situations. Many men who join the army have to live everyday knowing that they have killed someone and spilled innocent blood. Its a nightmare but I love how you make them face that fear and have an epiphany of what they need to do. Great story!

[~Sarah~ Idríel T..]

Oh again so touching and little sad story but still it's full of hope. Hope for the future. And when I read this - again - I would love to go to see those shorelines of Virginia and drink few Long Islands Ice Teas. :) Maybe listen to a couple of stories. Talking is important and listening is even more important. So many people are part of our journey beside us and some stay for a longer time. We are grateful to each of them.

Many thanks again for sharing this story.

-S

[joshua deathdealer]

Amazing story!! I love reading your work because I'm always swept away by your tales. This one in particular is moving, allowing the reader to understand the brutality of war and the strain that it's memories leaves on soldiers. Thank you for sharing this sad yet wonderful tale of love and concord.

[WatashLegend]

You stirred emotions with this piece and I commend you, what a fine piece of writing covered with honor and integrity, bravo to you sir.

[sarah]

This is a really great write I was touched with every stanza great write!

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

The tangeled mess of no hope and burning desire to reach home with both hands, a clear running message of winning isn't always the end result, well done