Are we prepared to plant our flags, still crisp and starched
with victory, on
the filthy front lines of humiliated humanity? Tend to
“their” soldiers? And surrender
to suffering, for an enemy still spewing venom as we wash
We are ready when we recognize ourselves as
former P.O.W.s. Defeated, and in the ditch of despair.
Rescued by the one who planted himself deep in the flesh
of our territory. Mocked and torn by a crown of barbwire. Tortured
by the enemy, to free us ALL.