The stench of old battles fills his nose
came alive again;
He feels the fear and hears the sounds,
As he hunkers against the monsoon rain.
he'd get used to the fear,
The loss of friends, the
weariness, and such;
He thought that, after awhile,
All those things wouldn't matter so much.
soon enough, to ignore the pain
As he matured and grew
into a man;
His mind would stiffen and grow a shield
Like toughened skin on work-hardened hands.
here now, lost deep in thought,
His vision turned inward
to distant days,
And he feels his soul shiver just a bit
As another callous slips away.
|By Thurman P. Woodfork
January 15, 2011