Young Soldier among Torturers

Then suddenly,
it came to me how swiftly
men could change.
How hands that raise
so lovingly an embryo
to first fine shoots
then splendid flower,
red raw, can bring
another’s hour of death.
Can crush another life.

I see each measured blow
thud to the flesh; each
drop of blood star on the soil

and I know fear.
               I have no part in this.
I shut my eyes.
               I am not here
my body cries …
               I stand; I watch
as mesmerised  –
caught in the monstrous
web of some dark
spider in a tower
a thousand miles away  –
which stirs: decrees:
               Resume the play.

From ‘Memories, Moods, Reflections’