The Soldier

I wield my blame
like a sword
and shield
attacking those closest to me
and defending from love
fighting valiently
to keep my pride in place
because it doesn’t feel
like my pride
that I’m fighting for
it feels like my life.

Like a druken soldier
I swing in great arcs
mostly thudding my finish
into the indestructible earth
but not every time,
care lays in my wake
bloodied and torn
amidst the divots of my strikes.

Looking more closely
I see my wounded care
and the wounded relationships
that are in pieces all around me
somehow I make it mean
that I must continue my fervor
and I lift my heavy sword again
tears now
and swing with a strength
that is not human
I know I cut something
but I don’t know what
and I hoist it again
and cut again
love come from behind
and I whirl and fend it off
and then trace the arc
of my blade down and through
and cut that too.
Blood of care and love
pools at my feet,
I sink in
always ready to defend
and attack,
a worn
but safe


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