POW

The solider knelt,

knees in the dirt,

tired of the hurt.

For months they held him

P.O.W.

Only for an end

like this.

The smooth cold circle on his neck.

His captors said he was an example

for those who might think of freedom

Now just knees in the dirt.

Different from the dirt

on the farm back home.

This dirt yielded no crops

It only held the dead from rising up.

A purple flower blossomed.

Just below his eye

It bloomed, wilted and ran,

down his cheek.

He looked down

as if to examine a spot on his collar,

just before he leaned forward and kissed

the dirt in front of him.