Later You Just Hear The Snoring Of The Innocent Ones Poem by Gert Strydom

Rifle boys with tanned bodies
in the dark evenings
lie on narrow beds,
counting the days off
to clearing out time,
and some already have the few day feeling

and some are smoking
others are writing and reading letters,
some do read from the Holy Book
or are cleaning rifles, dismantling every thing

and there are far away looks in their eyes
as if searching past the ceiling
trying to talk to destiny which orders things
and takes and gives life

and then little by little sleep sneaks in
while later you just hear the snoring
of the innocent ones, boys over night
turned into fighting and killing men.