Three Americans have been killed in Afghanistan. Internet still sketchy, so no link. Among the dead, a doctor -- killed by a man who was supposed to be protecting him.
Dr. Jerry
and saving the world's
most vulnerable and weak.
Sacrifices
immense and deep.
Married for thirty-four years,
he retires each night
listening to songs of gunshots --
a tune he'd rather not learn.
The melody shrill. It repeats.
Rotten harmony among the dead.
The bullets whiz,
through tears and blood,
muscle and sinew, stretched,
incomplete.
Fear rings through all artificially-trusted sides
and corners.
Dr. Jerry protects while
enemies lurk.
Westerners are trapped,
and attacked,
while alienation is on the rise,
getting higher with the April heat.
Defeat. Retreat.
No one is safe.
No one is safe.
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