The Soldier Stood Before You

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The Soldier Stood Before You

The soldier stood before you
Is your own reflection.
Different, perhaps
From a foreign shore.
Look at the rifle you hold
Containing the bullet
With the inscription
Upon its case.
It is your name
Whoever,
Should it strike?
The coffin reserved
For the body of the soul
It kills, is your
Body whoever it should be.
For all souls
Have emerged
From the one soul.
So it is you
And you alone
At whom
Your gun is pointed
And it is you
And you only
That you kill
In your battle with yourself.
Even though your
Victim wears
A uniform different
To your own.
So think twice
Oh noble men of war.
Then ask the question,
‘Who am I shooting really?’

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