It was my responsibility to clear all the ants from bodies.
The little creatures didn't realize they were dining
on humans, that this wasn't communion.
For all they knew it was just another feast
provided by the hand of nature.
A carcass given from the stroke of death
in which they shared these spoils.
Some of them were caught in dried blood
where they struggled to free themselves.
Gurney carriers kept bringing in bodies
along with body parts lost to their owners.
I laid one on the slab of stainless steel
used a brass nozzle to wash them.
Ants mixed with blood, sticks and assorted debris
rinsed down the dark drain.
In a river of crimson and brown swirls,
bodies soon resembled human.
Except for gaping holes and pieces of missing flesh
they were almost recognizable.
They probably didn't look quite the way families
imagined they ever would.
They wouldn't see them this way however,
by the time they were back home
caskets would be sealed tight.
A proud military picture would adorn lids of steel
gun gray box covered with an American flag.
Ants caught in this insane war
were drowned by water and my tears.
I sometimes wished to be a gurney carrier
instead of the who cleans ants from bodies.
Actually I wish I was the guy who could've been there
when these men were taking their last breath.
Carried them over to the other side of life's door
to open the gate to Paradise.
Shook their hand and told them they did good.
on this their last day of fighting.
Patted each one on the back to assure them
that life goes on past this day.
But then that's God's job, he has more experience
at that than I do.
I suppose He is also more qualified to be the one
who wipes tears from the face of the living too.
© Randy St.Marie 1998
*a poem from the Anthology - Echo Balance by - Randy St.Marie
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