Raised in the crowds of maimed and tortured young men

Grieving mothers and fathers

Brothers and sisters

Amid shadows of flag-draped caskets

I pledged not to march

to spread democracy at the end of a gun

But to be first to defend our shores against our enemies

And now

Hearing drums and threats

Amid camouflaged patriotic shouts

Seeing waving flags and angry faces

I went to the shore to meet the enemy

And surveyed the horizon

But there were no ships

No enemy troops on our shores

I went home

To find them at my table

Feasting on the unrecognizable

broken and twisted carcass that was democracy

And they were satisfied.

2 thoughts on “At Your Table

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