Dark, that night, as our clothes
As we two crept, predator-taut and bomb-ready, to our target:
Glass breaking before the searing lights, fire
Of our explosion.
A scream, a human scream, as she, trapped inside
Sears in heat, to death,
Soon gone:

No time to think now, to feel:
I must run, fast, faster, along some street
To safely hide
Away.

And there is pride, next day, as news breaks
As we two, bound in deep trusting silence, part
To lead our lives
Again.
It is good that no one knows:
There is defiance, deeds done to glorify our Cause
To bring that day of Triumph
Near.
No remorse:
Each deed an Act of War.
 
 
 

DW Myatt