By Kathryn Lipsch
Secure, serene,
On a mother’s lap,
The baby sleeps.
Short years in the future,
the little eyes see more
than familiar sweet faces.
The body grows.
Oblique gang violence
bends a young mind
that swells and blisters as
his soul searches for reason.
He rebels against loss
of sweeter, unfettered times.
Years go by.
Now as young man,
he stands tall,
his tattooed fist
raised to the sky.
In camouflage gear,
he defends a cause,
trying to stay alive.
His jeep slowly rolls
on a lonely night-patrol
in a far away village.
Faint, quick movements
of a dark shadow
on a rooftop-a sniper with a gun.
The trooper raises his M-16.
A strange face forms
in his cross-hairs.
Fear pulls the trigger.
A limp form falls.
Blood splatters the ground.
Adrenalin quickly rushes
to justify, to conceal
the horror burrowing deep.
A single shot squeezed out
ends his would-be assassin.
The scene, etched in his mind,
sweeps away a last solid speck
of a now forgotten decency.
In years to come,
ugly scars will mar his understanding
as his mind tries to remember
the credence given by a society
to elect his political insanity.
But in his heart he will know,
it was to justify– simplify to justify.