LETTER FROM THE FRONT
Mother,
this war has changed my feelings
my mind and lips find no answer
two hundred days fighting in foreign lands…
how many streets and cities will swim in blood?
Who knows, how many more corpses we will collect?
If two hundred times more surgical bombs we send
to kill and destroy many thousands of suspicious targets,
innocent children playing in the streets
people unprotected, old mothers
victory never counts lives lost
life bereft of love and mercy, what life is this?
Do I live in hell?
War condemns my enemy and me
I live in my blind mind,
In my blindness I fight in ghost cities
without free will
what is my life’s meaning?
Do I understand the world’s thirst for blood?
Is life its carnivorous spirit?
It seeks an answer from you and me?
It would be different if?
How many ifs?
I know, each exists in one’s own desert
alone fights one’s own battles
May be nothing is meaningful at present
but you, my far away mother, my homeland,
if for a second the world’s war spirit changes,
if the world starts from the beginning
if our world could live without hate,
if we change life’s direction, mother,
if I refuse to kill unknown enemies,
in this desperate land of my heart…
If we learn to understand the killing instinct, we learn to understand that life is sacred.
© Roula Pollard