The Young Soldier

The Young Soldier

A young soldier so riddled with pain
That his only wish was to be slain
Stands outside in the dark of every night
Slumped by thoughts he cannot fight.

"So Mighty, Lord." He shouts one day
"Make the pain go away.
I know you're capable and strong,
And unwilling to do any wrong,
So don't let me suffer another day,
Put me in the ground, throw, don't lay.
I don't deserve to take up more air,
So take me from this world, don't beckon, tear.
Rip me apart,
limb by limb,
Its better that than be forced to swim,
In guilt so deep,
Drowning in the tears of those who weep.
Screaming for their loved ones,
And crying for their loss,
Moaning for the guns,
And begging for the cross"

The young soldier closes his eyes,
Looking to find, reasons to mind,
A peaceful nothingness in the clouds,
Up above, away from the crowds.
Away from the pictures in his conscious head,
And the nightmares that plague him even in bed
Peaceful he would be,
If he were to be set free,
No more feeling pained
If just a mere thought was entertained.

And just like every evening before,
He opens his eyes and faces the gore,
His hands are bleeding,
And the horror is retrieving,
All kinds of pain,
Best left to blame,
On himself, though he cannot care,
Because at death itself, he'd had to stare,
Countless time before,
Each event left him shattered to the core,


"So, mighty Lord".
He shouts once more,
"My mind cannot wipe the gore,
My hands do not stop the bleeding,
And my enemies still be seething,
They do not realize, how blessed they be,
Deep in the ground, one cannot see,
Or feel or know,
How it feels to hurt so,
Though at rest their souls may be,
They still haunt me despite my plea"

Finally the Lord calls back,
Almost as if fed up at that,
"Young soldier, what is it exactly that you need?
You talk of bliss and of being freed,
Yet you do nothing for the life you lead,
Only drown in murky water in search of a seed,
A new beginning you should wish for, indeed
But claim you this will do the deed?
A life among the dead is not what you need,
I can guarantee you this; you will not be freed

So I ask you again,
Young Soldier my friend,
Is this really how you want to end?
I'm seeing an unsettling trend,
And as of late you all pretend,
That a knife to the chest,
Will strip you burdens bare,
That you can slumber for eternity without a care,
But I tell you now; don't you dare,
For your wife sits inside the house,
Sweat dripping down the back of her blouse,
Because you snuck out again while she was asleep,
And now she's left to stress and to weep,
So go back Young Soldier and let her keep,
Her love alive, not buried deep.
You're time is not up my friend,
This is NOT the end"

The young soldier wiped a cold tear from his cheek,
Though his eyes stopped the leak,
His life felt no less bleak,
He stood up straighter nonetheless and turned around,
to fix his mess.
And so he crept back home to his house,
His steps so soundless like a mouse
His mind was loud, raging and roaring,
His pain was deep; it was locked away for storing,

"Wife," he said, as he made it inside,
"there is something that
we must decide",
"What?" She says, all worries and tears,
on her face one can easy see the years,
In response the Soldier lips tug,
A half smile as he goes to hug,
his wife, who has been by his side for so long,
to leave her now would be plain wrong.
"We are a team" She says in his ear,
"So let me help when I am near."
The Solider represses a cry,
Only this time the urge is not to die,
He is enveloped in love, in warmth and in light,
For once he sees that death truly be a blight,
She kisses his cheek, a soft feather touch,
A silent gesture that means so much,
Because this here, is where he's meant to be,
Maybe there are other ways to feel free...
"So, the decision is simple."
The soldier says smiling, his cheek showing a dimple
"Tomorrow. Waffles or pancakes. The choice is for you,
just tell me now or ill make a stew!"
It was the Soldier's only way,
To silently promise he'd be here to stay