By Len A.Hynds

Please don’t leave me, with this darkness of death,
please not here, when I draw my last breath.
Take me away, from this desert without water,
from this land of endless slaughter.

I see giant birds, in silence descend,
my poor wounded body, to not attend,
strutting around in their awful haste,
waiting, waiting, my flesh to taste.

I see no pity, in their cruel eyes,
as they ignore, the swarming flies.
My bleeding face, set stark with fear,
no human face, can I see here.

Alas, at last, my body dies,
my last sight is, that buzzards eyes.
Now my spirit, sits quite alone,
watching the birds, peck to the bone.

Then an Englishman, appears,
Shoo’s them off, I see his tears.
He digs a hole deep in the sand,
and lays me down with gentle hand,

He covers my face with his own kerchief,
and there I lay, below, beneath.
I felt his prayers and saw his eyes,
and human comfort in his sighs.

He looked at my paybook,
and then at my mound.
"Your from Rafah old son,
and that's where I'm bound."

"Could have taken you home,
if you'd still been alive,
but without water my friend,
you just couldn't survive."

So this kind effendi,
will guide my spirit there,
to my home and my loved ones,
and to all of those that care.

Then a camel-riding bedouin,
a ghost from the desert deep,
rode up and saw the white man,
on the sand in such deep sleep.

With rifle raised and eyes so hard,
he was about to slay my friend,
but I rose up, as if on guard,
and ready to defend.

I explained to him. what he had done,
on finding me laying there.
Eaten by birds in that searing heat,
and had even said a prayer.

I said he was going to guide me,
from this place back to my home
He salaamed and smiled quite sadly,
this soul destined to roam.

He rode off in the moonlight,
continuing to roam
and tomorrow I follow my Englishman,
to the north and to my home.

vulture Dying Soldier