winds of change
it’s not a job
but a livelihood
digging holes in the ground
and filling them back in
marching behind foot soldiers
a shovel for a rifle
the long grass past that hill
the one taken back
over a year and fortnight ago
grows wildly bright
naturally fertilized by both
allies and enemies
I wonder what I’ll become
when the world
embraces reconciliation
wonder what vocation
I could possibly embrace
to honor those still alive
march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Deep and purposeful! Thanks so much for sharing. 🙂
Thank you and glad you think so, Ms. Blackwood.
Excellent poem… the last stanza gave me shivers… thanks so much for sharing.
All the best to you!, Aquileana 😀
Obrigado assim muito, Aquileana 😀
soldiers make the best poetry, they know chaos first hand, so an olde soldier needs be a poet.