I know what it is
to be powerless

I know what it is
to be made to lie low

while the unknown enemy
invades you

what it is
not to have words

for what is happening
for grass and tree

and inanimate thing
to be

your only witness
on the clearest day

of a childhood
almost fifty years ago;

how I hate

fucking violence.
this day

I will wear
nor white nor red

nor count myself solitary

I remember the many
who know what it is

to be made to lie low
while the enemy

known or unknown

in dead of night
or in the field

that spoil of war
earth’s oldest currency

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