I walk on bloody, broken legs
Death breathes into my choking lungs
My fallen brothers, so many dear
Lie in pieces scattered here
There is no warmth, no gentle sound
Just broken dreams and death abound
Is this my blood or those I've killed
Is my existence sin or skill
Does God bequeath forgiveness now
Or have I failed a sacred vow
Childhood virtue has long since died
My ravaged heart cannot abide
The
Cost
For those who've given limb and life
I remember your utmost sacrifice
I bear the words I've prayed and swore
There is a price and cost of war
-
Author:
A.H. Browning (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 3rd, 2022 01:54
- Comment from author about the poem: From James, chapter 4, verses 1 through 3, on where does war come from: “What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you? 2 You desire and do not have, so you murder. You covet and cannot obtain, so you fight and quarrel. You do not have, because you do not ask. 3 You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions.”
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 40
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments2
Amen!
(too heavy, a cost)
Thank you for reading and commenting.
Kindest Regards
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