Saturday, November 5, 2016

The Deserter

The Deserter (of the American Dream and more)

I can only describe what is going on within
as a Civil War
Bloody, tortuous, hand-to hand combat
Me against myself
Not knowing who is who
Bayonets fixed
A full head-on charge
Fire, smoke, death, chaos
A battle hymn
A rebel yell
And all of this for something evil
All of this for something good
All of this for something beyond me and my little world
I am a mere statistic, panicked here on the death grounds
Yet I am told this is the staircase to glory
All I know is that my simple story
Is I came, I saw
I cried,
then died.
There is nothing glorious at all in that
Nothing glorious at all
So right here in the midst of this noisy din
This noisy din of impossible demand, command
I drop my gun
I drop my sword
I refuse to kill my spirit
I refuse to bury my soul
in the soil of greed and human selfishness
I look and see three geese, honking, flying toward their home
I believe I shall go there for my very own self
For I refuse to roam within this land of death and prison and hate
As I drop my gun, I see the gate
On the outer edge of the battlefield
And amidst the cries of the dying, anguished
I take my steps 

To freedom

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