boots in the mud

. . .

…

I have never seen war
never felt it spit on my face
never truly recognized it
and all that he takes.

I have more than once made a bed
with quilted contempt
but the absence of blood-stains
keep the price off my head.

The land of the free
the home of the blind
the lovers of rules
the adjudicators of right
but we don’t know what war is
only some of us fight.
Refuse to recognize it
cannot bear the sight
of the quiet beast before us
delighting in lies
we repeat to ourselves
as we cover our eyes.

I have never seen war
oh, but he has seen me
and thanked me for my patronage.

For war is not new
but its silence is.