I detect a form in the moonlight.
Is it my friend or foe?
It appears, in the obscurity,
to be of the opposing throng.
and thrust my sword deep and hard.
My bloodied brother, eyes clouding, looks up.
His face, illuminated by the neutral luna,
wears confusion and sadness
from the injury I inflicted.
Why do I fight and injure and kill
when my vision is so limited?
How well do I know the soul
of my friend
or my foe?
Is it best to shun the violence
and trust freedom and love?
My vision is obscured.
The judgment must wait.
I will love the “other” and trust freedom.