To my bothers in arms, who have seen what no brothers should,
I wish to console you my friends, if only I could,
To reach you wherever your soul may roam
With a song, a call, a battle poem,
We push to make the high ground
Before our position is out flanked
Silence and serenity pervade cascades of broken landscapes
Before the violent storm rattles ground with earth quakes,
A heightened sense of ability, and surge of adrenaline gives speed to our fleet,
Bobbing silhouettes making haste in flight
From a distance in the setting ventures light,
The serenade of bullets piercing song,
The choreography of shattered dancing earth
The strobes of flashing fire fight,
To live or to die, to move or lie down
The spirit of this man must carry on, it must go on
Such is life now at times, difficult to grasp, difficult to feel
And as then, we now have a choice, to lie down and die or carry on,
But, the spirit of this man must carry on, it must go on
In moments of doubt, if fear overtakes you,
Remember you’re not alone, for in battle we lean heavily on each other,
And life now is no different, lean heavily on me now my brother,
For we must live to tell the story, now that we are home,
With a song, a call, a story in a landscape of battle poems.
Soldier of Battles
It started, in silence, in infancy; the eyes look beyond the darkness
To understand the sounds of rage, echoes of misunderstanding,
The beginnings of normalcy wrought with disturbance,
Bereavement for the loss of innocence and the first lesson learned.
The lines in ground becoming clearer.
The only thing that ever came easy for me is warring,
Not because I chose the ground, but because it chose me.
Here is your sword; here is your battle,
The field is endless and there is no turning back,
So find your heart and find your place among the ranks
You sojourn with.
You tell one another it will be okay, and that we will pull through,
But no one really knows.
Its only after our first encounter and mortal blow that we find some
Courage to face another foe.
The welcomed peace endured for a season, then skies darken
On eminent splayed horizons and shadowy realms of spirit
You try to make sense of the next wave of terror,
Taunted and vexed at every turn.
Your enemies take form in shapes of, what is true?
Wrestling, pondering among bloody concepts and the why.
Wounds received through fearful encounters take shape of scars,
Scars take shape of trusted moments carried through
Onslaughts of deception.
Fallen men on smoldering ground, tormented by hounds of confusion.
This is how it started, but not how it ended for you see,
There was One we found in heated skirmish
Battle hardened and sure footed, the spear and shield wielded
With skillful hands, He inspired confidence in us all.
On days we found respite, He sat with us and taught strategies in warfare,
The secrets to winning the hearts and minds of defeated bretheren.
The certainty and comfort in His eyes, told stories of ancient victories held.
A kingly stature though plain to view, never considered Himself better
Then the lowliest man I knew.
We asked about some of the scars He brandished,
“They are scars received from the greatest of man’s struggles,” He said,
He got them while defending the poorest of souls.
It was then we understood, it was of us He spoke.
So now we gladly fight for this One who became the captain of our heart,
We’ve learned from the truths that have pierced our very souls,
our greatest cause and reason to be.
A soldier of battles was He…