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A PRAYER IN THE MINEFIELD

No more dark shadows
or the promise of
a scorpion sting
on a hand flopped out
from the safe womb
of the mosquito net
on the jungle floor.

Glancing fretfully
at the luminous watch -
waiting for the next turn
at the sentry post
behind the hills of
Dat Do.

Dark night and close heat
with sweat pouring down
into the red earth
by dappled trees -
silent prayers
of the living
on the dead earth.

Give me another go God
just until the morning -
I'll be a good boy
and say my rosary,
just no more mines,
please Sir.

If you let me live
just another day
I'll go to church
every Sunday;
I think that's a good bargain.
Don't you Lord?

You were crucified Lord
and rose again for us,
the cross is empty
in your victory.
Those men hanging
on the wire out there,
will never walk again.

Where is the victory
in that spectacle
of shocking execution
of political will?

John A. Moller
Whiskey Two Company RNZIR

 

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