Soldier Blood
The curbing of rage
Sends out needles,
Drawn forth to target
None other
Than the self.
Blessed by DNA strands
Selected through fight,
I am at a disadvantage
In a world that values
None of the gifts
I bring to the pool.
The clotting
That saved,
My knife wielding kin.
The adrenaline
That carried,
Their hand to hand combat.
Both, seen as mutations
To be controlled, not extolled.
I find
The memory
Of those eliminated,
To produce the ‘me’,
Insulted.
Three cheers for modern medicine and western civilisation.
They continue to see nothing,
Beyond the narrow
Of the norm.
May their place
In this DNA space,
Grow in regression.
Dedication (For My Ancestors)
Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 60sec / 472kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 2001
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