Friends, in response to my previous post and in light of all that’s happening in the world right now, I offer you my humble reply.
Theme Week: Heroes – 3
Weary soul, lost and abandoned,
What did you last have your hand in
That was worth the measure of your time?
In this life, so frail and fleeting,
You have just one, red heart beating.
When did you last step up to the line?
When did you give up the battle,
Fall into the herd, like cattle?
Can your soul still hear the burning call?
How much was your silence bought for,
Laying down the cause you fought for?
Rise! There are some mountains worth the fall.
– s. Clark
I know that I am so late in posting this, I got caught up in the holidays! I hope you can all forgive me, and that you are having amazing holidays of your own. Love you, my dears, thank you for reading!
This poem “Christmas” is a VERY non-traditional Christmas poem, meant to speak to the reason for the season. I hope you still enjoy!
The air tastes sharply of iron
As the dust is tainted red
Frantic shouts across the valley
Rise in notes of mounting dread.
For though we may fight with fervor,
We have met a fearsome foe
Creatures, jagged, black, and snarling,
Tearing through us row by row.
Not a man has stood before them,
They have slain both swift and strong.
In the hundreds we have fallen
To the fury of their song.
For the song was one of darkness,
Draining all our will to stand,
And it soaked into the soil
Like a poison in the land.
Now we pause, bloody and broken,
Some have quit their post and flown,
And the brave are few in number,
While their ranks have only grown.
Faces turn to watch the castle,
Voices cry out for the King.
But with all the length between us,
Who could hear our suffering?
All our swords have fallen heavy,
Trembling, we cower back,
As the monsters roar and cackle,
Setting for the last attack.
Then a shout upon the hillside
Draws our eyes across the land,
Silhouetted by the sunset
Is the figure of a man.
He lifts up his sword, defiant,
Hulking shadow, edged in light,
And he spurs his stead to gallop,
Charging down into the fight.
Raise your heads and see, my brothers,
Shrink away in fear no more,
For we have not been abandoned,
And the King’s son comes to war!
– s. Clark
You have been there. The fight has grown so long,
I have lost count of all my battles fought.
My blade is bloodied, and my flesh is torn.
This war that we call life has made me strong,
and each success has been so dearly bought
beneath the weight of struggle and of scorn.
Though there are many crowded at the line
to watch me win the race, you shared the road.
So in the times I fell and lost my heart,
or knelt with broken knees and twisted spine,
you reached to raise me, shouldering my load.
You walked the weary wasteland from the start.
And there are always those who claim the win,
who show up for the trophies made of gold,
but you have been there for the grueling climb.
You offered faithful words and cheering grin
through all the pain, the tears, the biting cold,
through hateful words that rained like acid slime.
So let them come and boast with puffing chests,
and let them list me in their accolades.
The straws they grasp are empty as the air.
For in the times the haggard line was pressed,
I found you at my shoulder in the glade.
Through hell, with all its heartache, you were there.
– s. Clark
You don’t have to fight this battle,
You don’t have to face the pain
If you will not risk the failure,
Then you cannot take the blame.
It will all happen without you,
You will just be left behind.
You will only miss the victory
And glory you would find.
In this war, there will be martyrs,
And the ash will be their shroud.
And some also will be heroes,
Rising from the smoke, unbowed.
We will raise, and fall, and conquer,
Facing, fearing our defeat,
But how hard-fought is the battle
Will make triumph twice as sweet!
At the moment our Commander
Calls the cry, “The war is won!”
And each voice joins in, resounding,
And each man is named His son,
Will you risk to miss that moment,
When the fight is worth it all?
At the chance to meet your purpose,
Will you cower at the call?
– s. Clark