Surrender

He is tired and now left alone
After the wars he fought
In broad daylight
Underneath the tall building
This is not the war of Achilles
Or Odysseus
This is not the blinding of Oedipus
Of the weakness of Hamlet
This is the war of his own days
Stabs of light
Piercing of dusk
The confusions of twilight
This is the war
Of modern battles fought
Within the lonely rooms
Of the condominium
Where he arrives and departs
Alone
This is the war that he fights
Against himself
He prays to the face
At the headboard
And talks to the picture
On this wallet
It is him that fights
And it is him that dies.

by RIC BASTASA

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