Soldiers' Lament

 “I used to believe in my freedom,

and I used to believe in the war.

But I fell, with my allies, into prison,

where we screamed, through the torture, 'no more!'”

“I used to believe in my freedom,

and I came here to settle a score.

But I've cried every night for my children

hoping they'd miss me no more.”

“I used to believe in my freedom

when I heard the battlefield's roar.

But I could not muster the courage

to raise my rifle anymore.”

The whispers of soldiers carried

through hallways of steel and stone.

Their memories wasted with their bodies

from blood to broken bones.

Trials by fire and landmines

left scars on both flesh and land.

Allies left dying in the forests

resided in better hands.

“I used to believe in my country

when I left her glorious shores,

but now my belief is dying;

I have faith in my country no more.”

“I used to believe in my country –

in the glorified tales of war.

But the stories I heard were dishonest

and I believe in them no more.”

“I used to believe in my country

until I came through that door.

I'm shackled and locked in this cell,

and help will be coming no more.”

One by one they faded

as they reached the end of their tour.

They died in a foreign nation

and chanted their lament no more.

Then the guards gathered 'round them in a chorus,

and they summoned their voices in song.

They chanted a wicked, sneering verse

and bade their prisoners so long:

“You used to believe in your freedom,

and you thought you could take on a war!

But you sobbed to your hands like cowards:

'I believe in my country no more.'”