I see the clouds slowly wilt and rework themselves into a rich, deep, smoke filled color.

I see men being awaken in the night and drawn out of their beds, not to fight the monsters beneath them, but to fight the monsters in front of them.

I see boys being robbed of their innocence as they fire a heavy rifle they are barely strong enough to lift. Boys. They are children fighting against the cruel reality of war. With some of them thinking they are brave. They are courageous. Because they hold that weapon in their arms, and have the blood of many stained on their sleeves, they say to themselves, “ I am a man!” But they are not men. I am sure. Before many of them release their last choked breath, the tune of their mother’s lullaby remains on their tongues.

I see this. You see? I see the sky. The beautiful, heartbroken sky, bend towards the earth to pick up whatever remains. The sky cries as it collects the sons and daughters of combat. What remains on the mind of soldiers only I know. Wishes, dreams, hope and even regret. That’s mainly what I see. Regret.

As the mothers sit and wait by the doorway for their babies to return; I am there cradling them as they die. I see their actions, the tears of wives and mothers, the shaken, hysterical state they are left in. They knelt into the cold dank floorboards and see what the war really is. It is grief and pain, death and numb pride. It is empty promises, hope, and then heartbreak. It is never forgotten. I see all.