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I shudder when he comes in sight.
His eyes would scan my
face,
and all I read within them is contempt.
His gods are alien
and
that which he believes
attacks my fortress
code, passed down to me
upon
an honored bloodsoaked plain.
His music darts like flame
across
my fresh-mown field of art
and there are ugly scars.
I hate the
sound of every word he
shouts across the barrier I built
to stay
secure.
When will he go away?
May I not choose whom I may love?
Is justice blind to
heritage?
Is not all I possess worth
taking savage blood?
Do not I
swell with pride
as evil falls before my fire?
Would I not die to keep it
so?
The quiet post is lush and green
as I return. The evening
shadows
lengthen, and the chapel bell
is heard. The flag is folded
for
another day, the enemy
too far away to hear
the sound of
Taps.
Too far away to know
that here is perfect peace.
