There is no hurt in despair and degradation of pride,
With deepest overtures and bone-aching weariness,
Like the tenderest touch of conscience!
That defamation of soul can find no relief from torment,
No peace from pain-filled humiliation,
No venture of complacency replacing tortured knowledge
When the cornered conscience chaffs.

No searing, burning anguish deepens default
When the softest pinprick of awareness lifts an eyebrow.

There is no soul-saving duty to replace the salvation of his home
And loved ones, his nation, his land, his Love.
The pride and desire when he marches off to any war
Replaces all other hindrance he may possess. He can
Expect death, but never scars. To secure the parents
Of his birth, siblings, his hope for descendants and
Immortality: these are his thoughts amid shell and shot.
He remembers home and honor and heritage in each
Familiar place. Never once has he glimpsed the future shock
Of seeing in a DIFFERENT-COLORED FACE, the blood and
Death-blind eyes of ANOTHER BROTHER!