Independently at War

When the soldier stands erect in his stance
his hands clinch and his eyes twitch from
the horror of the events in his gaze. We
expect our boys to fight hard and be prepared
we expect the caskets to be well made
and not need repair, but do we expect
the survivors to shake society in terror?
Do you want to see the aftermath of all
that has come to be true. His arm a memory
now lost, dust in an Iraq village. Children
here play in the streets we worry for their
safety from accidental speeding cars. Those
children bring presents of C4 to clear their
father's streets of the US Forces. A coffin
can be the only escape for a man, but rest
you see will never be his utopia again.
Scrubbing the innocent's blood from his hands
he tears away the flesh to expose stained
bones pink in shade. Drummers beat
aggressively as we line the streets to view
the heroes coming back to us, coming back to
us looking normal. We care as we hang
red, white, and blue starred banners to wave.
We care as we block off alleys to pull
floats made for Presidents and of symbols
that have never seen the pain bleeding
in the tears of soldier eyes. I care as he
stands on some stage to deliver a speech,
televised for us to see like we care. Tomorrow,
we fix this injustice to our hallowed halls of
liberty, life, and the pursuit of happiness.
Today I pursued your happiness as I sniped
an infant caked in dynamite struggling to
stumble towards our base...