From ‘hands on the hips’

by jhon baker

Meditation on the death of a soldier

 

life ended abruptly by the

bullet of another’s weapon

paid for by a master neither

one of you has ever met

weapon that was cleaned

with as much care as yours

and placed firmly in hand by

another country such as yours

and without thought, fired to

bring ends to ideals and have

certain glory from gods or God

fired a bullet that ended it’s

own journey in your body

your body, which lies there

weapon in hand that surely would

have ended the bullets owner

if given the chance

 

this is the death that you have chosen

 

as if picked out from a catalogue

listed under ‘means of dispatch’

and you nation mourns forgetting

your choice

never blaming the decisions

that placed you there

yours and your masters

 

but I am colder and I cheer

not at your death but

at the end you were able to choose

for yourself

I am not so lucky and

I will die unknowing from where

the bullets came

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One Comment to “From ‘hands on the hips’”

  1. Always loved this piece..

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