Duty

We stand and face

the blinded men.

There is one

for each of us.


They stand like ruins in the rain,

the water pouring down

the cracks in their faces,

corroding away the skin

until there is nothing left but

sand.


The officer barks-

we raise our rifles

and learn only to remember

the jolt in our shoulders

before the heavy fall.


The bodies crumple to the ground

like folds of laundry. Yet

one still shivers

across from me, wet

between the legs.


Another bark, but

to my left remains standing

a gun cocked and loaded,

the sight shaking with a trembling chest.

Bark, again, but he shuts his eyes

and shakes his head,

denying the tag

around his neck.


I hear my name

and before the blinded man can fumble

with his lips,

“Oh mother- Dear God who art in Heaven-“

I pull the butt from my shoulder

and stand before the blood

pooling in the dirt

amidst the rifle's smoke.


To my left,

I hear him wretch.