It's hard sticking a sharp blade through the joints
Of a metal suit. Easier to let fly an arrow in the sky
To pierce the eye of a king.

Firing a cannon or musket from a hundred feet
Is easy. First fumbling for the ball, hoping
The powder in the packet is dry.

Tough to see the bodies afterwards which could be you.
The blood, the bits of leg or arm, the awkward
Still body of the enemy you killed.

The distance from the impact makes it easier
Then victory or defeat, life or death
And life goes on or not.

Now we murder at arm's length. Not see a thing.
Align the co-ordinates and press the button
Pouf! A flash. A job well done.

No memories of the sound of one's own skin
Dragged along the road after the bomb.
That might give nightmares.

Those damn Spartans, shoulder to shoulder
Friends to the death, celebrating, thrust on thrust
Knowing their end and their defeat.

But victory! Dresden burns in Gaza's rubble
And the dead all turn to dust
Then the problem's solved.