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

their wounds?

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.