WAR

 

“Why is he not burning?”

“He will, he will, the air is too thin up here…”

Wing over broken wing, crushing g-forces stopping escape, the enemy pilot

prayed to his god but it was too late, he was already dead.

Sunlight sparkled on the spinning plane a thousand metres below.

Smaller and smaller, hard to see in the death spiral.

Will he cry for his mother and scream her name in the thicker air?

When he burns up and if he is still alive? The God of War has struck

again and shows no mercy.

Lower air bites and fuel vapour streams through a hundred bullet holes,

catching in a second.

A flash of yellow flame, almost white and a wounded pilot burns,

mercifully unconscious at his life’s end.

War has taken another victim, still in the upper air the airwar wages.

Two more planes fall down, defeated…