Murder ought not ever
be a duty,
Even though for soldiers it must be.
Maybe one is bound by love or beauty
Only after one is safe and free.
Remember, then, those who murdered for you,
Invading, burning, bombing in your name,
And those whose plain white tombstones are before
you,
Long dead, with neither guilt nor pride nor shame.
Deep within the heart the cause of war,
Alive and well, assures us there'll be more,
Yielding hatred, fear, revenge, and
pain.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.