War, in five voices.

By
War

From the perspective of a Brigadier General
The field of battle is mah’ specialty, son.
Mah’ strategy is to deploy quickly,
and outmaneuver the enemy first,
then divide and conquer to maximize opposing casualties.
With a little luck our boys will be home by Christmas.

In the eyes of the 5-year-old daughter of a soldier
What’s a war mommy? Really?
But why do people want to hurt eachother?
I’m scared mommy.
Will Daddy be okay?

The voice of the Earth
You knew I could feel it, didn’t you?
Every artillery shell? Every landmine?
The tank treads and burning forests?
I still ache from Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Killing your brothers is your own choice, but please…
Please, children, don’t kill your mother.

Pondered by a soldier writing a poem before a battle
For duty… honor… virtue… I fight
No, these things don’t help me on this cold, misty night.
“My girls are at home,” I think. “That’s why I’m here.”
But is it worth the chance of losing the father they hold dear?
Existential questions, and ‘is this war right?’
All warriors are – are bullets in flight.


Seen by the soldier’s rifle
I am a rifle. There are many like me, but I am his.
I remember the first day of Basic.
The speed with which he assembled me and ran the race…
My master doesn’t move anymore…
but still I stand sentry
There’s no one left to shoot me now.
“Pow, pow, pow,” I wish to say, as silence washes over the Earth





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