The Watcher
by Michaela Macha
A war, somewhere. A soldier is crossing a line
when combat begins and something shifts in his head.
I watch. He feels so alive, like never before--
He revels. Ecstatic, the killing. Delightful, the gore.
He´d not known he could be like this. He´ll try to forget,
yet yearn for it later at home. All this is mine.
A city, somewhen. An artist is doing a line;
addicted to beauty, his craving helps him create.
I watch his choice to live fast; he will not live long.
He fades while his dreams become real in sculpture and song.
Soon he will have nothing left, except wait
for the time to pass between shots. This, too, is mine.
A lab, someone. He muses over a graph line.
His life has passed and he knew not the turning of seasons.
I watch his hunt for a truth that he may never find;
nothing else matters. I feel his hungering mind.
His wife had left years ago; he did not ask reasons.
With sudden rapture, he´s seeing the answer. All this is mine.
© 2006 Michaela Macha
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Artwork by Hildico S.