how false it is,
that wretched notion,
that killing is justified
in the name of your country.
in my arms
i hold what's left of a wounded soldier,
a bleeding father,
a dying husband.
he gasps out everything he needs to say at once,
the unintelligible, panicked soliloquy
of a man who knows he's dead.
choking on blood, he weeps,
struggling to form hail marys,
our fathers,
his greatest need to send love
to his children,
to his wife.
and as his spirit leaves its destroyed home,
i cant help but wonder if another man,
over that hill yonder,
is celebrating this loss of life
because he waves a different flag.
that wretched notion,
that killing is justified
in the name of your country.
in my arms
i hold what's left of a wounded soldier,
a bleeding father,
a dying husband.
he gasps out everything he needs to say at once,
the unintelligible, panicked soliloquy
of a man who knows he's dead.
choking on blood, he weeps,
struggling to form hail marys,
our fathers,
his greatest need to send love
to his children,
to his wife.
and as his spirit leaves its destroyed home,
i cant help but wonder if another man,
over that hill yonder,
is celebrating this loss of life
because he waves a different flag.
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