When Living Turns To Hour-To-Hour Poem by Gert Strydom

When living turns to hour-to-hour,
sometimes to minute-to-minute dimensions
and even while shooting
you talk to God as if He is right there
and you know that you are living
on shared time

when finding shelter taking cover
while bullets, mortar bombs and rockets
whizzes over your head
and in war you have to kill a man or two
while some of your own comrades lie dead

there is someone breathing, also living
a lot like you, who sees the blue sky,
feels the sun, smells the grass, the veldt
and then you start to love every other man

as a brother, even if his skin,
his culture is different
and know that they are humans too
but never can afford to stop acting savagely
as death lingers waiting even on brave men.