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
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