Dirty Work
Weary and sleep inclined
I watched the pools of rain
Upon a roof below a corridor
White, quiet and quite empty.
A calmness of concentration came
As I aimed and made the kill, again.
There, a bleeding body
While, somewhere, trees buds were bursting
With the Spring.
I had killed, knitting in space-time
A synchronicity since it was only
One family's loss
But civilization's gain.
The choice was never hard
Since Thought can never act
And in Action without Thought
Lies a perfect bliss.
But the Dragon stayed
While only I moved on:
They - the politicians - could still cry
For they forget our memories,
The things that we did in their name.
Yet our eyes betray our loss
For we few who survived are forever
And always
Alone.
DW Myatt