From A Sniper's Perch

I have seen many targets
through the crosshairs of my scope
assigning to them a berth
on the deck of Charon's boat

in the heat of dreadful summer
under the sun's tireless rays
deep in the midst of winter
under snow and cold cold sprays

whatever the environment brought
I will deign to blend in as well
in camouflage a hiding I sought
waiting for a long long spell

among hedges on mountain ledge
in the shrubs of forest and dells
under tarp in desert sands
behind shades in buildings tall

drenched by shivering rain
wracked by sandstorm winds
with patience I am awaiting
for that one shot, one kill clean

my 7.62, a rifle from Remington
chambering a round of matchgrade magnum
topped by a scope from Bushnell's production
a ten times vision to assist my ultimatum

firstly the range by laser light
calculating the drop of bullet and windage routes
adjusting my sights I compensated to right
making sure a hit is what will come out

pulling back the bolt the rifle I cocked
inserting a round from my ammo pouch
lining up my sights my scope I locked
upon my target from my sniper's perch

a grip upon stock a shoulder to rifle butt
a breath I intake before round become shot
its strap I wrap around my arms real taut
releasing half my breath holding the rest before the jolt

upon the moment my crosshairs lined up
with the targets head I gently squeeze about
a pound of pressure nothing to add up
to release the hammer upon bolt to strike out

ignited the powder in my round loaded up
whose grains I measured painstakingly precise
expending gasses did ram the bullet out
a mass of metal that tumbles clockwise

from chamber to barrel the bullet rotates
from barrel to air slicing in the wake
travelling in seconds its impact most accurate
from air into flesh as a forcefully driven stake

its entry a hole nothing more
a gaping wound upon soft flesh
but the exit it brings to fore
is a twisted travail of rupture and mess

splattering blood, brains, organic matter
upon walls and any that's likely near
what a rush of Godlike power
to take a life upon a whim a rapture

as I watch through the scope real time real life
my victims squirming writhing their last gasps
in agony realizing that they have had their last breath
their souls arising from their bodies into death

I never questioned nor gave a thought
to kill from a distance gives no remorse
my faith in orders my superiors brought
to my nation of birth my loyalty's recourse

until one there's another and the next one hence
targets are nothing but missions to complete
till later I became as numb as my gun
with nothing to tell have a heart I once did

a vessel most hollow empty in respite
an elite among few but with none to delight
for the road that I walk are beyond all light
shrouded forever in the duties I must expedite

an enigma to follow for those without cue
to what I have done, what I still have to do
a soldier I am, a killer of women and men
but a poet at heart who weeps in the night's silent hue

what dreadful things are noble principles
when clashed with loyalty and baser pedantics
for only in the heart does it really suffers
when in mind ethics are overruled unpatriotic

once targets are strategic and tactical in nature
or villians too slick to be reached by courts of law
now politics and favors begins to appear
targets selected are more in the interest that draws

but still to the cause I must stay
to the flag, the nation, my commander in chief
for long long ago an oath I have said
upon my honor, my word and my beliefs

doomed to a life in solitaire I must
at least until this is no longer mine to undertake
but how can I find the redemption that I seek
for the lives and souls that I did terminate

wishful dreams from a sniper's thoughts
the soulful longings of a lonely soldier's heart
the poetic rendition a philosophical search
for truths and meanings to a dreadful task

a lonely view from a sniper's scope
the life of an assassin sanctioned by state
the lonely view from a sniper's perch
of a soldier's sacrifice for duty's sake.

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