Day Ninety Three: Wolves in the Dunes

Here is today’s inspiration.

A cold sun rises in Kandahar to the south
where NATO forces swing and carry
a violent wind around about.
A bare and broken city beset on all sides
by bases and operations from the North Atlantic,
situated on the doorstep like wolves at the door.

The Red White and Blues take charge under
the sandy sky. Their forward operating base
a home and a hope to many.
Inside this trailer tent city, boredom sets in
between patrols and there are those
dark of heart, thirsty for blood,
who wish to feast on something more.

Early in the day fleets of armoured carriers leave
and vanish into the desert.
Skills and crossbones, fingers and weapons
are tokens of past kills.
A band of men, more beast than man,
deliberate their next one and decide that
innocence will have to be lost.

In a pack they scatter across the desert
and stop at village after village taking back
the innocence that war has robbed them
civilian after civilian.

Staging ambushes and feigning attack,
murdering passersby at the drop of a hat.
Disregard for another lifestyle, another culture,
tampered and ruined by years of despotic vultures.

Two peel off from the pack and look for a fresh kill,
stalking the streets of a peaceful village
hunting for another number.

Summoning the young, they toss him a grenade,
his smile fades. A puzzled look sets in.
They open fire, and all around the village
other soldiers follow suit.
The body holding the machine gun jammed,
and the generation nearby couldn’t fix it
as a pack wolves sit and watch across the bloody sand.


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