Saints and angels —
for honour.
I have seen
men-at-arms.
War.

Not easily moved by pity.
And many follow arms.
You cannot separate the soldier
from the thief.

I have no trumpet;
I am only
with all my heart.
Poor people
and dead women
by the wayside.

I wait God
upon the field of battle.
You look for the moon.
But —
you had been the poor.
I have been the soldier,
the thief.