Gone to a War Zone
by Geminga J. Mistry

He's gone again.
Off to a war zone in some green-forsaken land,
Off to sand
And bullets and bombs and treason.
I quake in my deepest hidden places
When he laces
Combat boots around his calves
And tucks a pistol into his belt.
What I felt,
The day the plane took off,
This silent, frantic fear
When he's not here,
I wouldn't wish on a sadistic, corrupt despot.
Last time he left he came back,
But not for lack
Of someone's cursed trying.

Copyright © 2007 - Geminga J. Mistry
Published: 8/2/07   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem