Withdrawing From The Battlefield

Where canons roar, and gun smoke lingers
The wounded soldier lies.
The inevitable shadow of impending death
Is seen through bloodshot eyes.

A monotonous groan from the bowels of hell
Escapes from muddied lips.
On one elbow, slowly raised,
The blood flow slowly drips.

An attempt to stand is a futile move,
The pain, through bones, does course.
A cry, that can be heard for miles,
Her last defiant force.

With arms outstretched, one final push
To stand the body tall.
A shining sword, ne'er used in war,
A crutch against her fall.

Though breathing hard and deep in pain,
The soldier limps away.
A survivor on this battlefield
A victor in decay.

For the battle here was not for land,
Or the words of God above,
It was a brutal war, and, at its heart,
The sanctity of love.

Our soldier strives to leave this place,
To find solace from this plain.
The victors standing over her,
A twisting knife prolongs her pain.

She hastens away, her head held high
No more the beaten foe.
Sweet memories are her kinsmen now,
Her aggressors shall never know

What pain they caused our soldier, strong,
How close she came to dying.
But as they kiss to seal their love,
They fail to see her crying.

Hand in hand they leave this scene,
Not looking back to see
That the heroine of this bloody fight,
Has finally been set free.

 

Copyright © Victoria Preston, 2009
All Rights Reserved