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Poem

It took time for the soldier to realize,

that no one was truly self-sufficient,

after the raids and the bombings, hunger materialized,

and life seemed insufficient,

the villagers took refuge in a form of weakness,

as they watched their government fail,

and their lives sail,

unable to ask for any kind of help or guidance,

because of their own blood trail,

left by strangers in their land,

as most of these bystanders

become prisoners to a foreign command,

these thoughts flashed through the soldiers head,

as he walked around the countless dead,

he fought so many wars and won,

and he knew when another war starts,

they’ll take his son,

he gazed at the sleeping form of an old woman,

wrapped in a filthy sheet,

as she rocked nervously on the side of the street,

and small children huddled together,

and it appeared they haven’t had a bite to eat,

they simply watched and waited,

and for the most part,

that’s what the soldier hated,

these sights tugged at his heart,

but he was just following the chains of command,

there were whispered exchanges,

but he knew God would somehow understand.

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