There is only
One job  
For me to do
To meet flesh
And go right through

I wonder
How many
Brother bullets
Have I in this world
Today
And how many new
Brothers
Are born
Every day

How many die
Because of me
And how many
Suffer injury

Good thing I don’t
Have a mind
Where I go
I don’t decide

Could be any soldier
But without his body armour
If he wears a metal hat
I couldn’t go through that

Could be a baby
In his pram
In Siam
Or Amsterdam
In London Town
Or Paraguay
But
More likely
In The USA

Could be
A newly-married girl
Anywhere in the world
Or maybe
A holy priest
Anywhere
In The Middle East

Good thing I don’t
Have a mind
Where I go
I don’t decide

Sean Hunt  June 13 2016