I turn on the tube
and watch some ceremony,
than hear a soldier talk of letting go
the hate that came with battle’s harm.
In halting words
he shares the time he sat on sand
in a circle of men,
a few from his company
and some from the so-called foe।
He sat there listening,
trying to make sense of a fight with no end,
‘til a man with an axe struck him hard
on the back of his head.
No Call of Duty game here,
no quick recovery.
And yet his faith in peace,
like the light of the sun,
was not snuffed out by an enemy’s blow.