Her face in fright silently waiting,
Conscious conflicts strong enough to lose her sanity,
The feeling of guilt and responsibility,
The games they play they play silently,
She waits with lighted cigarette thinking of possibilities,
Perhaps out of existence there is a strong sense of right and wrong,
Here, all that exists are bodies blood and raw,
Afternoon comes slowly to sleep is fear,
They fight for freedom for it is better to fight and die than live under oppression and fear,
Young men waiting, survivors they are,
Perhaps they survive as the chopper comes,
Those survivors are shot, shot on the ground,
Fear of dying silently waits, you light a cigarette waiting for the break of day.
I like how you describe the emptiness the subjects feels i can relate
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is terrific, Amanda. I love the descriptive way your work speaks out.