The Red Forest by Janice D. Soderling

The Red Forest

They are the enemy
and we are sworn to hate them,
rapers of women, looters,
invaders, drunken swine.
Born for this destined purpose:
to dig a lonely trench in a foreign country
among trees strangely dead.

Regard them, retching.
That foot lately on the shovel,
lately on the skateboard,
a trembling lip, lately fuzzed.

Somewhere a mother is praying
that god will keep her boy safe.

by Janice D. Soderling

Editor’s Note: This chilling epitaph is written on the hearts of mothers everywhere.

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