I will tell you

in those transports you bomb,

their groaning metal evolving to blooms of ragged air,

soldiers of your enemy wait

stroking the flanks of their guns.

I will tell you

when you cut down their planes and crack the holds,

those withered vegetables you find

aren't food but weaponry; those dolls

actually spies with alien eyes.

I will tell you

the noise you hear when you hack their coms

is no language beautiful as your own

but the noise of a million insects

descending like locusts toward your planet.

I will tell you

the broken bodies of the children you find

in the hollowed rubble of your cannon fields

were planted by your enemy

to confuse you.

You need truth to win a war.

Listen. I will tell you.