Letter From A Reluctant Soldier
Poem By Jones Jones
At last my love a chance to write
Though I've thought of you every day,
The sun has set but the moon is bright
It's as well for I've much to say.
How I miss you my darling and our dear son
By now I'm sure he's grown,
How I pray he'll never have to carry a gun
Feel the fear that chills my bone.
How eerie and silent the bush is tonight
On the border of this troubled land,
Soon I hear we may have to fight
It's this thought that unsteadies my hand.
What are we doing in this cursed land
So many miles from home?
Fighting for what only desert and sand
Surrounded by many but alone.
I've yet to meet the people I hate
I'm told they're evil and black,
I'm so uncertain about my fate
And the courage I'm sure I'll lack.
This land isn't mine so why should I care
But you know that I had no choice,
And we're all supposed to do our share
In the end very few will rejoice.
The Namib behind and Angola before
All around me nothing I own,
In the dark freedom fighters by the score
The face of SWAPO behind every stone.
This morning my love I heard a man say
We are fighting for children and wives,
But still I believe we'll rue the day
We let politicians play with our lives.
I'm no coward and I'll fight to stay free
I'm prepared to die for my land,
But if I must die why should it be
On this desolate, foreign sand?
Darling the south west moon is low
And I hope the dawn will be prettier,
For nothing dampens my spirits so
As this land some call Namibia.