Battlefield

by Bette Hileman

None of us thought
we would die.
We knew we would.
But we didn’t feel it.
Our friends were alive.
They were in good health.
They were planning for
the golden years.

Now, across the border,
the golden years are a battlefield.
So many dead around us.
And the rest?
Most are seriously injured.
Those who walk,
tread with guilt.
We wonder why we move without pain.