Something suspicious
In the middle of the road:
The soldier,
In fear of his life,
Stops the tank,
Rises to his full height,
And his alarmed eyes
Sweep the empty plains around him.
The place is quiet as death,
And abandoned to the scorching sun;
But halfway to the horizon behind him
The defeated town is still burning
Under a shrouding cloud of smoke.
He jumps down from the tank
And begins to walk
Towards something left there,
In the middle of the road.
Expertise and experience
Make his steps
Heavier,
slower,
and shorter,
Until he is safely close
To the source of his fear,
And now he bends to look and decide:
Is it a bomb
Disguised as a tattered little girl?
Or a big doll
Slipped off the hands
of a little girl
From one of the pick-up trucks
Of a caravan of disconsolate refugees?
Oh, no, listen!
You, the blind conscience of the world!
It was a headless, blood-soaked body
Of a real little girl
On the altar of absurdity!
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