A soldier prays for never more a war
and begs of God it happens never more
that he should be called upon to take up arms,
chancing endless rest in death's chill arms.
That none may know the breathless cold
which comes when sudden death takes hold
and drags a youth through eternity's door
Never to know loved one's touch once more.
A soldier's daily fare is shattered grief
brought to table to protect our belief in
things that matter more than man's life,
things worth living for, worth tasting strife.
Some ideas die at birth while others bloom
and men kill other men in daylight's gloom.
Standing tall, crouched in fear of things unknown,
weapon poised to serve, to fight and lay life down.
No warrior lives or lived ere this who does not say,
Lord, let me live with pride and if I must, die the way
a warrior dies, with pride of thought and depth of soul,
give me strength to fight and return with spirit whole.
Let me fight so that all may see and be aware I died
so that others can live with hope there at their side,
and rest their heads upon sleep's sweet shoulder,
simply because I was a man, a private soldier.
A WARRIOR'S PRAYER
*BY: J. James (aka Lafcadio T. Lion)
Used with permission:
Copyright 1998 J. James/aka Lafcadio T. Lion
All rights reserved. This work may not be used without the prior written permission of the copyright holder and the display of an appropriate copyright notice and link.
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