WAR Poem: A silent front, by Jana Tvorogova

Now there were fewer of them, but Little Angel wasn’t quite sure how many.

Little Angel would count them later, in the dark, on the bed.

Little Angel had lined them up like soldiers, an army raised to fight against you.

Little Angel had set up a front of them, planning to attack you with them.

Of course, Little Angel didn’t really want to fight you,

only to see if you could manage to defeat the army.

Little Angel wanted to see you triumph.

Little Angel wanted to see the soldiers fall at the front lines.

It was perhaps an unfair fight against you,

since you hadn’t been given time to prepare for that first strike.

It was Little Angel’s fate to lead the soldiers to their own defeat.

But Little Angel had only brought them to the front for you.

These troops were meant to be broken by you.

Instead of embracing your beloved Little Angel,

your eyes filled not with love, but with fear.

For the red, snarling soldiers,
who grew in number each night,
filled you with such terror
that you became unable to act.

You didn’t want to fight them,
so you surrendered immediately
and slipped past the army, trembling.

They would never really attack you;
they were just standing there,
waiting to be struck down by you.

But you reassured yourself
that this wasn’t your battle to fight.

It wasn’t up to you to take on Little Angel’s soldiers.

Victory meant nothing to you.

So you left out of fear that the soldiers might wound you.

But, never having touched even one,
you didn’t see
that they were only made of paper.