Won! Poem by Vera Sidhwa

I fought in nighttime mountains,
In a foreign exotic land.
It's occupation frightened me,
But we never received a reprimand.

The seething hatred of the nationals there,
Spoke to me of what a conscience should bear.
But 'winning' took center stage.
Machine gun fire destroyed the words of the sage.

Ofcourse, the sage didn't matter during a combat fight,
That echoed in mountains through the night.
Wishing teeth grinding eternal defeat.

Two twenty year old men of opposing nations,
One screaming, 'I Win'
Holding high that ego's sword.
The destruction of God's creation.

A trained soldier at will,
And another on the ground,
Laying permanently still.

So you read not the thousandth,
Not the millionth chapter,
And definitely not the last,
From that never ending book.

Of the human race.
The race that thinks,
'I Won.'