Christina A. Sharik


The enemy has two hands and so do I –
My enemy has two feet and so do I –
He has a home, a family – hopes and dreams and fears –
He has someone who will shed tears for him.
I have the same – but I will go home
and he will not –
For I have killed my
enemy, with one shot –
and I never knew his name;
I had to kill him, that I know –
I hadn’t realized it would sadden me so.

Author’s Note: This poem is for my Dad