I am traveling under the white flag; our army has surrendered, but I carry this reminder to soldiers who might fire first out of instinct, or out of vengeance. That is who we are now; men of war; the bloodstain does not wash away in a day. We are each uncertain how to react around the next bend in the road, to the next sound unseen. Who am I now? What am I now? I am the quiet beast outside your door; my claws are .44 caliber and never retract. I may turn on a spur, and take you down, not out of anger, but out of habit. This is the uncertainty of returning soldiers riding the long roads home.
Oooh, haunting, beautiful, haunting.ReplyDelete
the bloodstain does not wash away in a day...