Old weathered hands, like baseball gloves ,like leather
Hold the cold steel shakingly ,smoking like a cigar puff into the air
His blank stair shows ignorance ,shows anger
He does not know what he’s done.
Trained since childhood to hate the ones he never met
Now the hated enemies lies still, cold
Eyes still open staring deep into him and
Leering after his motives that the soldier will
Never fully understand
Why should I hate him? He offers to bring so much
Peace and solidarity to my land. But I can not control it
Like a beast inside me that rises up I watch as they raise their flag
In my backyard, my mother land
The lack of color in the young soldiers face looks no different than
The children that I buried ,I carried their bodies away from their crying
Mothers to offer them the right they earned ,the similarities uncanny
Everyone looks the same underground
