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My Human Disguise.
Today there are 61 armed
Conflicts ongoing in our world
On four of seven continents.
I sit here writing poems unharmed.
It’s almost quaint, the flags unfurled
As wood ships traded armaments
Until a mast or two went down —
Then the surrender of the crown.
Now, instead of drowning in waves,
Men and babes vanish in mass graves.
I was a sharpshooter at ten,
But never had to go to war.
Should I fear I’m like other men?
I’ve no gun to fire from my door.
