"Micah," A Poetry Post

Micah was a soldier
in a time of war
that nobody officially declared.
Trained to do battle,
penned in a corner,
taught to be daring,
he dared.

Like his superiors demanded him,
he did not parse the facts or the ends.
He ID'd a common target,
named him the enemy,
and relentlessly attacked
to defend.

For Micah,
one bloodshed
required another,
regardless of innocence or
place.

He sounds like the country
from which he was bred,
and behaves like the
soldiers we all
celebrate.

How fitting that he
spread his plumage so close
to the fireworks of our
freedom day.

Since in the name of freedom,
have we not slaughtered?
Have we not slandered?
Have we not--worldwide--
done the same?

Like Micah, we've launched
our offensives against
whole nations for the
sins of few.

Like Micah, we've mowed down
whole fields and families,
and justified what we
"had to do."

Like Micah,
we perceived certain insults,
and we assigned them to
leaders and groups.

Like Micah,
we responded with
violence and vitriol,
with hatred,
with imprecision,
without ruth.

Now you hide your hand,
Great America?
The land of the free
and the brave?

You have taught us that
if we should ever feel fear,
that the fearsome should
go to their graves.

You raised up your excellent Micah to fight,
to at all costs protect what was his.

You can't be surprised, then,
that in Micah's eyes,
it was right to do what he did.

-T. D. James-Moss