Am I the sinner or the preacher, student or the teacher, the lover or indifferent?
I thought, dug deep into the trenches, the cold globes of earth shifting and settling into my clothes. Wait. I’m starting to see a shape in the distance about three clicks away. I cant make them out just yet, but through the mists, ugly and black, they angrily jab at this writer’s sleep and disturb my mind’s peace. Oh, so you thought you were the thought that could just creep up on me, failing to see that my understanding runs deep, catacombed under the bone, so to speak, since violators were liable to get shot. Someone from far off in the trenches orders me to lay off my defenses.
But sir, the enemy is advancing, this is no time for peace!
We pushed then. Through the fields of provoked war to apprehend the targets caught dead in our sights like Osama’s head as it turned to meet the wrong end of an U.S barrel. Couldn’t tell you why I rushed in, I guess for the first time I just wasn’t thinking but the bullets kept flying. One doubled over as the left flank moved around the perimeter. Surrounded and boxed-in, one feel to his knees and began to plead. The last one standing had courage and came towards our heavily armed borders, hands high in surrender as I tapped the trigger ready to fire.
Don’t shoot, she says, I am love, offering my dignity and pride, and my life.
She closed her eyes then and shouted,