Emptiness surrounds me.
The life deserted, strangled
Of the very core of its being.
There is no sound.
Like an old black and white movie,
I'm waiting for the captions.
I'm still on duty, yet there is nothing to guard.
I have no purpose any more.
What you may not realise is that I have lost too.
Here I am, following orders set by a country that hates me.
I want to rebel, but if I do, I'll be killed.
I want to hold on to what little bit of life I have left.
My father, mother and younger brother all casualties
In this clash of wills.
I'm poised on the flats opposite me,
The windows bare and destroyed.
I long to hear the hubbub of childrens' voices once more.
My own son doesn't play out any more.
I fear for his wellbeing.
What a tragedy it is to know that, in his short life,
He has witnessed so much pain.
I can't imagine what's going through his mind.
I can hear him cry himself to sleep every night.
There used to be such joy in his little face.
Now, however, a cold, blank stare remains.
The road is eerily quiet,
As if there was never any life here.
That scares me.
I'm armed and poised for action, but I don't know why.
The palm tree next to me says it all.
Withered and dry, like all the vibrance
Of a lost era ebbed away, strangled and devoid of energy.
My own spirit has been slowly dying away for the last year.
I'm calling for back-up, but... question is...
Is anybody alive to listen?
(c) NZ 2009.