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.