March 6, 1836 The Alamo
Few men know when their time will come; not so with us, for each sealed their fate,
by standing together as night marched toward us, all resigned to die here within this gate.
We had time to think, time to consider, time to abandon this pre scripted end
but each with reasons that only they knew, choose death at this Mission with comrade and friend.
We’d asked reinforcement, but held little hope and understood well that such hope had run out,
We talked mongst ourselves with bravado and laughter, but now quiet came to quell any lingering doubt.
A steeled eerie countenance slowly replaced the edged nervous air that enveloped this place,
As we all made peace with the lives that we’d led, no more love, nor laughter, nor promise to make.
Dawn has not broken but hangs there obscured, mud neath my feet, mist in the air.
The cries of “No Quarter” are rising to din, but oddly I feel no fear or despair.
The army spills in like ants from a hill, and I and my few, stand to meet that fierce swell
The screams of the dying the cost of our choice, the sulphur and powder, as each of us fell.
All was in chaos, long rifles, cannons, bayonets at close quarters, the wails and the cries
through the smoke filled mist, the shadow of death, the blanket of fog o’r the ones who would die.
Soon it was done, soft rain and blood mingled the enemies there with our own
And from our pain and sacrifice, revolution took wing; born of the mud and our bones
Should anyone ask, why did they stay, why trade life for death or pain,
I would ask how could we not; with all at stake would not they the same.
While true that few may know their time and fewer still that time would set.
What happened here did change all time and for that change our blood we let.
Scruffy Oct. 2018
Heartfelt emotion should always triumph over protocol