I've never seen his face

The bullet from his rifle
To my flesh it did race.
A yell I could not stifle;
I never saw his face.

Perhaps it was a stray round,
No target to be aced,
An accident; my Achilles found.
I never saw his face.

Was it me, his unseen foe
He wanted to erase?
Or was he just another joe?
I've never seen his face.

Did he die sometime, somewhere?
Or was he granted grace:
To gaze within the mirror there
And say; I've seen his face.

rel 16 Apr., 2008