moment by moment

moment by moment.

Rough pebbles on a deserted beach,

wait for the coming tide to take its toll,

moment by moment,

eroding each pebble,

the jagged edges made whole.

I too lie on that empty beach of fate,

inured by the coarseness I have seen,

moment by moment,

of contorting myself to belong,

while losing my soul in the screeching throng.

The waves keep battering my soul, incessantly,

as I desperately try to fit into the role,

moment by moment,

splintered by the slivers of life’s icy shower,

a drop of dew in the early dawn hour,

perched on a fresh petal of a morning flower.

To the Nameless Soldier.

Your orders may come now,

or at 19h45 this evening.

‘Shoot to kill’.
‘Engage the enemy’.
‘Hold the line’.
‘Break up the gathering’.

‘Ready, aim, fire’.

But you have felt it as well,

the stab of hunger,
the bite of thirst,
the bayonet of loss,
the wounds of despair.

You have seen,

the pain in a mother’s eyes,

the grief in a father’s face,

the incomprehension in a child’s down-cast look.
‘Ready, aim, fire’.

But you, the nameless soldier have heard,

the cries of the grieving family,

the wailing of the widowed wife,

the quiet agonizing sound of the child’s weeping.

‘Ready, aim, fire’.
Your orders may come now,

or at 23h30 tonight,

or tomorrow,

or the day after that.

But you have felt,

the agony of a peoples’ simple desire for freedom,

dignity,

food,

peace,

employment,

for hope!

You have felt the stab being long bludgeoned,

the wounds of your stolen generation.

So when that order comes,
now,

or at 03h30 tomorrow morning,
‘Ready, aim, fire’,

let your humanity muzzle your rifle,

let your conscience dismiss the order,

let your human side come to the fore,

let the people in your gun-sights be akin to,

your mother and your father,

your sister and your brother,

your son and your daughter,

your friend and your lover.

Let them live!

Let them be!

Let your rifle fall to the soil,

O’ Nameless Soldier.