Soldiers

Unforgiving miles
Of envy and hate,
Tear from his arms,
A mother and child.

Blood spurting rhythmically
From a once proud body
Nourishes a soil
Unresponsive to its touch.

Hard truth
Piercing thin airs of drilled righteousness,
Has ripped his breast.

The sacred wealth of freedom
Has added to its till,
Another golden coin.

James K. Richardson