walking the shadow

yea i walked the shadow of
a narrow valley road
i carried a soldier's load
past mothers who had died
unmoving, while no one cried
i saw bodies tossed and crumpled
their rural lives humbled
into a tangled mess of clothes
a single wilted rose
next to the sleeping face
of a child of Oriental race
i went by walls of bullet-marked stone
standing alone
roofs splintered and a few falling
i heard native voices calling
and pleading and begging and quiet
the air once suspenseful full of riot
finally with wild despair
i saw their eyes looking anxiously everywhere
there was no where to hide
no way to know who had lied
no where to be safely buried
no longer any reason to be hurried
the dust blew fitfully into the afternoon
and i saw in the red dirt a broken spoon
a pair of sad sandals and a good luck charm
resting near a completely severed arm
i saw the uneaten bowl of white rice
balanced on top of an American doll twice as nice
as the young girl split open on her side
unmoving, while no one cried