08/11/2026
😢🥹
We'd walked a thousand miles, old friend,
Through fields where broken roads would end.
Through freezing rain and endless mud,
Through thunder, smoke and fields of blood.
You carried me when I was weak,
You knew my voice before I'd speak.
And when the shells came crashing down,
You stood beside me on that ground.
But now you lie here in the clay,
And orders say I cannot stay.
Your breathing's slow, your body sore,
You cannot walk with me once more.
I kneel beside you in the rain,
And stroke your face to ease the pain.
You lift your head and look at me,
As if to ask where we will be.
"I promised I'd bring you back home,
To fields where you were free to roam.
To summer grass and morning light,
To somewhere safe from war and fright."
But now the sergeant calls my name,
The guns are starting up again.
"We have to move! We cannot wait!"
And still I kneel beside my mate.
I try to help you rise once more,
But you can't stand as once before.
Your legs give way, you sink back down,
Your tired head rests on the ground.
I take the harness from your back,
And gently loosen every strap.
No more the weight of guns to bear,
No more the loads that weren't yours to share.
I leave some water by your side,
And brush the tears I cannot hide.
You nuzzle softly at my hand,
Too weak to rise, too tired to stand.
They call again. I have to go.
But how can I just leave you so?
You've never once abandoned me,
Through all the hell we've had to see.
I press my forehead close to yours,
As distant guns begin to roar.
"I'm sorry, boy. I tried, you know.
God help me, I don't want to go."
You close your eyes beneath my hand,
And there, among that ruined land,
I whisper words you cannot know,
Then force myself to turn and go.
I walk away through smoke and rain,
And hear your breathing once again.
I turn around. You're watching still.
A lonely shape upon the hill.
I want to run back to your side,
To hold you close until you die.
But orders come, and men move on,
And soon the place where you lie is gone.
The years will pass, the guns will cease,
The world will speak of hard-won peace.
I'll make it home, grow old and grey,
But part of me will always stay
Upon that field of broken stone,
Where I left you to die alone.
And every night, when dreams begin,
I'll see your eyes and hear the wind.
They'll call us heroes, brave and true,
But none will know what happened to you.
No medal bears your name, old friend,
No grave will mark your lonely end.
And when they ask what haunts me still,
I'll think of you upon that hill.
Not all the guns, nor all the dead,
But one brown horse who raised his head.
And looked at me with trusting eyes,
Not knowing this was our goodbye.
I kept my life. You gave your all.
I heard the orders. Heard them call.
And though I did what I was told,
That memory follows as I grow old.
For all the years that I may roam,
I'll carry you, my friend, back home.
I couldn't save you on that day,
And I could never make you stay.
But when my final journey's through,
I hope somewhere I'll find you too.
Beyond the guns, beyond the rain,
Where peaceful fields stretch out again.
And there, beneath a cloudless sky,
I'll hold your face and softly cry,
"I'm here, old friend. The war is done.
Forgive me for the day I had to run."
