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Seagulls call out above me
As I amble through the parking lot in dusty boots,
Enjoying a rare moment of quiet and solitude
While uniformed

While systematic and
Moving through the hierarchy of rank

My mid-position
Allowing me to glance upward and smile slowly
As I watch them travel across the sky in low,
Fleeting movements

Their wings beating
Throats honking
In protest of the order and numbered lists
That mark me as ‘Soldier.’

I listen to their calls, standing on the pavement
In my own, feathered silence,
Wondering how much longer I can keep up this charade
Of rule following and unquestioned authority,

Ideals that turned to ghosts
Somewhere on the Pacific Ocean
Sometime after
I pushed back.

It’s only a matter of time, I know,
Before my true position is uncovered
And blared out over the water like a foghorn.
But I don’t mind, really

As long as the birds above me stay in flight
Until they find it:

Somewhere (for me) to land, safely and quietly

Because everyone is tired
And waiting
For release,

Somewhere past the waters
Of this harbor.

This is beautiful, everything I love in poetry. I like your lack of metre it reminds me of Janet Frame who is a NZ poet

Thank you! I'm going to look up janet frame and read some of her work.