Times show up in life
when a man must decide
to face the fire or to flee.
They have visited me before
with fabulously mixed results.
Now again I hear,
if only in imagination,
the sound of bullets,
the whine of shrapnel,
the drone of rotors,
whispering to me:
Your life; your choice;
stand your ground
or run away.
May my heart choose wisely.
- mce
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