Foreign Soil, poem by Eileen Dawson Peterson

the sun rises in a golden glow

            over a beautiful land

with golden sand, majestic mountains

            towering trees, flowering shrubs

cities with lovely, unfamiliar buildings

            intriguing twists and turns

            domes and turrets

a land he dare not become attached to

            interesting people he dare not get to know

foreign soil, an enemy land

            where he is the stranger

             gun on his shoulder

             grenades on his belt

where at any time he may be called upon

            to shoot and kill the people

explode to rubble the homes

            offices, shops, libraries, museums

destroy the lives of innocent people

            who happen to get in the way

of destroying the enemy army

            who threaten his own life

and it sickens him, makes him retch

            while it toughens him

turns him into a kind of monster

             where will it end?

Who will save him

and the people in this

beautiful foreign land?

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Michael K Gause