Projected Idealism

We drop bombs on the brave
Who stand still with their arms spread
Waiting, breathless
To take the fire into their souls:
Idealistic pillars
Of how we wish our friends could be
And fear our enemies are.
Self sacrifice and suicide
Made noble and ignoble
In a single piece of fractured glass
Reflecting vacant eyes
Alive but emptied
In that final moment
When death is not possible
But imminent
Unavoidable
A wash of pain
Despondent.