scourge

I Wait For Soldiers

I know your suffering is a gift,
And yet I don't want to see you suffer,
The deluge of sorrow, bitterness,
And my scourge restrained with hapless contempt,
For all the days you spent comfortless,
Abandoned through misunderstanding,
The tenderness of open arms you left for dreams non exist,
And I, not knowing the horror of your nights,
The agony of your torment, how deep the gash,
Or festering with stagnant nightmares,
Looming furtively in the silence of the night,
I weep to the heavens for just one meager moment of mercy,

That into the darkness of your shattered mind,

Unfettered alms might be fulfilled,
And hear our hearts, feel the warmth of compassion,
Taste the blood stained tears that fall wet upon our faces,
I hear the wailing shrieks of babies, mothers,
And you...from the depths of desolation,
Reaching for what once was,
As you left this land to become my hero,
The measure of true love is deepest felt in suffering,
And the battles of the ages cannot be won,
Until every being lays down their sword in the waters of tranquility,
To wipe the slate of our fathers, and their fathers past,
Carry a weapon of peace, for now is the war that matters most,
Bear your arms in love and kindness,
Now and the rest of our days we may have to share,
For life is short, and we are sorry with you,
You are not alone.

 

 

 

©2013

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Poem about feeling sorry about war.