A rest with no nightmares

...I was dying, but not dead yet  
how could I blame them  
of my early burial  
War is an ugly fuck  
where you are done quickly...  
   
In the embrace of the dark  
I thought that the death  
had to be done that way  
the void, oblivion and silence  
   
The remote sound of a shovel  
the clods falling on my face  
through my eyes, nose and mouth  
the psalms of a priest  
in the distance, above  
   
I was dying, not dead yet...  
but how could I blame them  
of my early burial  
War is an ugly fuck  
where you are done quickly  
   
So here I am below  
with my last fragments    
of memories:  
the gaze of my victims  
in a desert of a dying sun  
the howling of Ghibli  
deflagrations of combat  
   
All at supersonic speed  
such as smart bombs  
on slums  
camouflage for the round-up  
charred bodies of combatants  
of Women and Childrens  
in the wreckage consumed  
   
And thick smoke in the lungs  
pitch-black smoke  
the same color of the earth  
as a blind eternity  
from which I was swallowed  
   
Enough horror, my Lord!  
I wanted to shout  
but it was impossible  
with the ground in the throat  
   
Then, slowly I blew out  
and the darkness took over  
what a relief  
peace of eternal rest dark  
if this is death ...  
that she may be blessed  
   
Now you can abandon,  
poor soldier,  
in the rest without nightmares  
Which you have well deserved.