Orrin Schwab's poem follows a war from its first strike to its smouldering aftermath. It opens with speed and spectacle: bursts of light, jets, explosions lighting up a desert. The language is almost cold, describing destruction as "energy / compacted and released with / death." The middle section slows down, and the tone shifts. The speaker admits the attacks were brutal and merciless, yet "we still had tears" for the shattered lives and frightened children.
The most striking moment comes in the parenthesis: "(some did)". Only some people felt sorrow that "we / too were barbarians." That small aside suggests how easily such guilt is ignored. The speaker seems to be part of the attacking side, and the poem reads as an uneasy confession rather than a celebration.
The ending is bleak but not hopeless. The war simply burns until its fuel runs out, and the earth survives, "scorched but living." The mood is sombre, reflective and quietly troubled.