By Christopher J. Hoy

As he marches across the desert sand

Hundreds of miles away from home;

He thinks about his wife, son, & unborn child.

He's left behind everything he's ever known.

With the love in his heart he has given life.

His thoughts of his wife in a far away land.

He looks down and his eyes begin to swell;

There's blood on daddy's hands.

These hands that used to caress his wife.

Hands that used to love and hold his son.

His hands that wiped the tears off his wife's face

Because he had to finish a war that wasn't done.

His son at home looking at mommy with pleading eyes;

Then staring for all hours of the night out the bedroom door.

Lying in the dark next to him she can't explain to him

That his daddy's going to war.

A year of his life he can't give back to them,

He thinks as he washes the blood and violence off himself;

Knowing tomorrow red crimson will once again stain his hands.

He picks up his weapon and feels colder than he's ever felt.

He takes his kevlar and stares at the pictures of his wife and son.

His hand shakes from the chaos moments ago.

Tears fall from his sand covered face.

He misses them more than he will ever know.

He puts on his kevlar running to his team.

His weapon at the ready within his hands.

Pushing forward to fight another day

As he marches across the desert sand.