Soldier’s Nightmare

The uniformed soldier stepped into the classroom,

Document shaking in his hands.
His forehead creased with frustration, eyes drooped like a small puppy.
The ceiling lights flickered, as if trembling with fear, of the tale to come.
He began his story slowly.

Hundreds of soldiers invaded Baghdad, a land not theirs to take.
In the distance, there stood a dark haired boy, outside his home.
He bends down on the dehydrated dirt, grabs a circular object, playfully juggles it.
The soldier gets an order from his commander, “Shoot and disarm the boy!”
He is armed with a dangerous weapon… a grenade.
The soldier hesitates briefly, his weary body frozen in time
He has just been commanded to murder a child.
Obeying his order, he lifts his metallic machine gun and fires.
The innocent, lifeless body falls to the blood-soaked earth.

Afterward the drained soldiers approach the bloodstained body of the boy.
Their salty sweat pours from under their helmets and down their backs.
Wide open eyes reflect the mistake; parallel eyes reflect the damage done.
The alleged grenade was a water balloon.

This is a poem I wrote last semester for a creative writing course, the discussion in class today reminded me of it. I believe poetry can be very journalistic.