March 4, 2014
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The word torture
Contorts in my mouth
Sputters out brusquely
As the strike of a whip
against a bare back
Cowering on a stone floor
wracked with pain
A torrent of cold water
You awaken
Say hello to my friend
The Executioner

The word war
It exits with a grimace
and slams the door
Fear in civilian eyes
Blank, hard stares from the guard
German for “was”
I can find none

The word prisoner
The lips barely move
Held tightly together
Restraining a string of wishful thoughts
The only escapees
Muttered curses
Short breaths

The words love, hope, faith
Open, behind a breath of anticipation
Broad syllables, thick
Full of meaning
But spoken too softly for anyone to hear
From my mouth

[And besides
Who would listen
We would rather read of gore, bombs falling, no pulse
Cries of the wounded, tears of the fallen, sweat of the soldier
And wince at the headlines
Safe at home

Jaded by peace
Restless fools
Propped up in your armchair, cigarette in hand
Coffee or tea

Have you heard the news today?]

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