Choices

As I walk along the ocean's shore;
warm sand kissing the toes of my feet;
a lonely heron is standing guard,
watching patiently for food to eat.

He doesn't seem to mind my presence,
so focused on the mission at hand.
Then quickly, suddenly, he strikes prey
and in a flash disappears to land.

I think how quicky our nations change.
The strong survive and the weak succumb;
so in history flows the tide of life.
Some have plenty and others have none.

Our lot in life was chosen for us,
born to dictatorship or freedom.
Honor those who fought for the latter,
losing life and limb for battles won.

We owe a great debt to those great souls
who made a stand for what's right or wrong.
They paved a path of independence,
showed us how to stand up and be strong.

For weakness only leads to danger.
Someone out there is waiting to strike,
sensing their prey just like the heron.
Human, or beast, we all think alike.

24 Lines
Poetic Traditions, Round 105