Its raining in Iraq
As i sit here in the rain,
cold and shivering,
my mind takes me from this staircase where i lay
i hear the not so distant bratt tatt tatt of scattered gunfire
as a unit is training to deploy.
even here, in the middle of nowhere georgia
the sounds of war consume me
as the rounds pierce my brain,
i wonder if there is some unfortunate soul
whose boots are filled with hatred, lies, confusion, deceit,
some young kid, some old man some, blond haired blue eyed queen
who misses his mother, his daughters, her prom king
not all soldiers want to be over there,
not all soldiers know why we are fighting.
not all soldiers have the courage to stand up to their chain of command,
not all soldiers have the audacity to defend peace while rounds are whizzing past their sand blasted face.
they come home,
no one understands their thoughts, their nightmares
who will take care of these troops
who dont understand why they fear children, dogs,
spare tires on the side of the streets
who will hold their hand as they hessitantly inch down the busy streets
where their fellow countrymen argue we have no buisness over there,
the troops are a disgrace.
who will win this war?
what difference does it make?
what will we think of human beings tomorrow morning?