I grieve a young soldier I never met
From a valley where I rarely go
All known of him is from a newspaper
That helped paint the color into the familiar lines.
Anne was correct in her prophecy from student days
That it woud destroy me if I had to see them die.

I came to love them enough though
From just learning their stories.
To almost freely destroy a career,
It required what was probably over identification.

God in great mercy killed the career
So I did not have to see them die
The death of the career was depression enough
From what many surely regarded
As only a training accident.

Bill Grace

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/training-accident/