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Our Soldiers (Free verse) by Lenore

Their life’s the war’s. By following any street Your feet will find the sand at their end. Barbed wires serve for fences. The land is shaken Like a dune by all the bombs that waken, Blinding from sky to eye. There’s a calm seat Where Generals sit who fight the war no more- Aged, but hard and stony to the core, To whom the battle was a trusted friend. About the long-lived, huddled Army-camp Their talk assumes the shifting sand’s undertone ; Their motions go like gradual grains blown down, And each soldier stands on the desert alone. Even when they group in waiting idleness The war’s pain stays about them ; they confess In every mood they are the battle’s own. Their tanks who tread the street go mean and neat Like lips whose words and wails, complete ; Their loves, too, serve the wars who stay at home While their soldiers iron vessels roar and roam. Every longing hearts a tank, and they, its crew- Their life’s the war’s ; sometimes their death is, too!

Lenore 8-Jul-05/8:17 AM
Yes.




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