By C. F. Kelly
The dark suits and red ties determined
that I should fight with knife and gun
in a foreign land and kill an enemy
whose speech I did not understand
whose food and dress were strange
whose crimes I never learned.
Perhaps his feelings towards me
were quite the same as mine
and he had left a wife and child behind
and risked the loss of life and limb
because some dark suits and red ties
had decided that war was good.
My legs are gone now replaced
with advanced designed prosthetics
that will never become arthritic
and my mind is a labyrinthine maze
that distorts reality in kaleidoscope fashion
and plays critical havoc with my emotions.
The dark suits and red ties from both sides
smile and sign papers and shake hands
because they have negotiated successfully.