The Third of May by Bob Atkinson

The Third of May

(2011) Bob Atkinson

Pablo stood strong

tall like a man of purpose

arms held high into the air

not shaking, quivering or nervous

a smile on his face

teeth flashing and gnawing

his words spoken serious

about pride, country and church

posture straight

no care about dying

although bare chested

you could feel his flags flying

“kill me !!” he said

not sad with despair

“I'm ready to go

I've done my share”

those around him

quivered and shook

those with their rifles

and those with their books

those who were waiting

for their time on the stand

and those who were praying

for life mortal, too soon abandoned

hands on their faces

groaned Francisco and Raul

Tomas with his glasses gone

head back, looking square on

who were these demons

who killed those that wanted

the freedom from control

of tyrants and monarchs?

they'd fought for the day

through barrages of muskets

had known were outnumbered

expecting death as comfort

from shot through the ear

or cannon balls dancing

through soft bodies of men

shortly after their prancing

who just yesterday

were alive with great passion

for a cause which they knew

could end their lives soon

death quickly gained

from cannon ball shot

the artillery of soldiers

hardened from battle's fought

explosions of fire

sweeping through the heart

blowing friends' bodies away

tumbling them for yards

killing those who longed

to see the French departed

revenge for murdering

soldiers while marching

souls would be martyred

shot to the ground

with rifles from marksmen

not sure what they'd done

were they killing men

who should be in the grave

or just wild hearts wanting freedom

from chaos and chains?