Who are you phantom soldier?
Nameless.
Faceless.
Why did you leave your equipment behind?
Are you coming back soon?
Your heavy, huge backpack waits for you like an old, faithful dog
The rough, worn, frayed fabric is a testament to your struggles
Your battles and how you must fight to stay alive
The bullets draped so neatly
Tiny, maiming, life-ending little packages
So organized and efficient
Your M16 so carefully propped
A first priority in case of attack
The helmet placed jauntily atop the pile
A quirky addition
The water canteen is tucked carefully inside a pocket.
Its essential in a desert such as this
A barren wasteland
A desolate battlefield
This isn’t No Man’s Land
This land belongs to you

Your blood waters the sparse trees and grasses

And all that remains of you is the footprints you leave behind in the dust
And on my heart