Then, And Now

November, 2017.

All that lives, must die. This is the way of things.

Beneath a burning sun, radiant in the Winter sky, I swore my oath.

Beneath a waning moon, mournfully grim, I kept my oath.

Beneath the desert sands, remorseless and cruel, I buried my oath.

Beneath green grasses, gently caressed by the solemn song, I wept for my oath.

All that lives, must die. This is the way of things.

Then, on that clear blue midwinter's day, I knew not Death.

I knew pride, in the tradition of my fathers who fought before me.

I knew pride, in the acceptance of my brothers who now fought beside me.

I knew pride, in the service of Democracy and the ancient owl's watch upon its wall.

I knew pride, in joining the adventures of heroes and hoplites, knights and kings.

Then, I knew not Death. I knew but hope, hope and the dignity of honor.

Now, beneath a gray sky heavy laden with chilling rain, I know Death.

I know Her silent greeting, the silken stroke of Her fingers upon my cheek.

I know Her quiet kiss, softly straying across my lips.

I know Her fixed gaze, stronger than chains of iron upon my heart.

I know Her pull, undeniable and alluring upon my hands... my hands still red with blood.

Then, I knew not Death. Yet now, I know Her love. And this is the eternal truth.

For all that lives, must die. This is the way of things.

Then, the days were scorched by storms of sand lashing like angry whips.

I knew their burn, the searing heat of a wrathful sun no longer loved.

I knew their rage, the fury of a vengeful land ancient at the birth of history.

I knew their danger, the skies choked and swirling, concealing and punishing.

I knew their ways, the warriors of Allah who rode the sands of fourteen centuries.

Then, I learned to give Death. To give it with the taste of copper, the stench of smoke.

Now, the days fall fast and silent, callous to the hopes of my dreams.

I know Her power, subtle Death, the power to fulfill all promises- in Her own way.

I know Her judgment, black robed Death, rendered upon the guilty who sin to imagine

themselves innocent.

I know Her hunger, ravenous Death, devouring the souls of fools too proud to see Her

truth in the darkness of the lies they tell themselves.

I know Her beauty, enchanting Death, bathed in the endless tides of blood shed for Her.

Then, I knew not Death. Yet now, I know Her love. And this is the eternal truth.

For all that lives, must die. This is the way of things.

Then, the fool I played so well thought to laugh at Death. To give, and not to take.

I knew the certainty, the resolve of a just cause and the sweep of a sainted sword.

I knew the duty, the weight upon the shoulders of the men who volunteer to stand 

in the path of the cruel to protect the weak.

I knew the prayers, the whispered blessings of a thousand souls who trusted me.

I knew the memory of their love, those at home for whom I marched so far... to kill.

Then, I learned the truth of Death. That those who give to Death become Her thralls,

raised by Her pale hand to worship Her dread beauty with blood, and smoke, 

and the endless tears of a mother's heart broken by the burning of her only daughter.

Now, a shadow I am, marked by She into whose hands I have given my soul.

I know Her now, in the face of every child I see cherished by those who keep them safe.

I know Her now, in the solemn sighs of my brothers upon the winds of the grave.

I know Her now, in the purity of Her power to shatter the illusions of Man and blind those

who dare to imagine they may live, live and know Her not.

I know Her now, waiting with the brothers I have given to Her in fire and fury, waiting 

with the brothers I have buried with folded flags and broken dreams.

Then, I knew not Death. Yet now, I know Her as the truest friend of men, the truest

promise of eternity, the only end of the only road ridden by all who live.

For all that lives, must die. This is the way of things. Now, and then.

Author's Note

Yes, I am a veteran of the US war in Iraq.