She, Soldier

She stands watchful

not over her baby’s crib,

not over a simmering pot,

not over delicate stitching of a quilt

 

A gun rests on her hip

not her child,

not a washing basket,

not a water pot

 

Her gaze searches for her enemy

not a foreign invader,

not an unknown fiend,

not a many headed monster

 

She watches

with a gun at the ready,

searching for her enemy,

her neighbour.

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