Poem-4 - A face from the past

A face from the past
That haunts me
Haunts me in my dreams

Wakes me up in a cold sweat.
The nightmare keeps recurring.
The face returns to haunt me.

It is the curse of the soldier
To kill the enemy to save his nation.
But what if the enemy was a young boy.

No more than 14
He brandished his assault rifle at me,
With a hardened look on his face.

He fired first and I ducked down
To dodge the stream of bullets
In self-defence I shot him.

Through the head between the eyes!
The look on his face I will never forget
As he shouted 'Ya Ali' and fell to the ground.

This is one killing,
That I will never come to terms with.
I am sure he will return to haunt me again tomorrow.

The curse of the soldier,
To relive every killing.
And pray for the departed souls.....