October 9, 2012
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"I'm meant to do this."
He told me once.
"It's the only thing that will make things right."
He answered my question with vacant eyes,
And an expression so stern,
My head bows slightly,
Like a child being scolded.
I'll never ask again.
He has a journey to make,
And I can't keep him from it.

He walks,
With delicate courage,
Addiction to independence,
And a mind so closed off
From the openness of his heart.

He walks,
So closely focused on the single thing
That will determine the value of his soul..
Pain departs as opportunity arises.
I watch his fists unclench and eyes grow softer.
Danger welcomes him to its side,
He feels safest in its fierce grip.

He walks,
To the battle field he's bled for.
Where thundering and screams melt together
In a never ending cry for unjust peace,
And freedom through control.

He walks,
Aware the fallen will slip
Into a crack in the cement skyline.
There in there chasm,
The bodies pile upon each other.
The stench is over powering,
Scents of flesh liquefying and bone diminishing to dust.
Our heroes decaying like compost.
Or dropped in a carton,
Sent across the sea.
Though saved from the blood shed,
Just a little too late.

That this could be his fate,
Is a thought I can't cope with.
I can imagine his face torn, and bone exposed.
Remains broken and bent.
A pitiful form of the strength he once carried.

Another victim of the War Machine.

He walks,
To stand atop this heap of rot,
What he has longed for.
What could slaughter him.

He walks,
Though reluctant to disappear.
The darkened world he's known.
The constant fight to stay above the water,
While the easiest thing is to drown.

He walks,
For the intolerable ones who've built him.
Supported and left him.
Meant to love him completely,
Though they won't kneel in the mud,
To release the anchors from his wrists,
While he struggles in the ocean he's created.

He walks,
Far from a broken home.
To earn worthless scars,
Beyond the ones he's created in dread.

He walks,
To redeem the family who alienated him.

He walks ,
To save those who've damned him.

He's walking,
To prove the strength of the fortress he's created.
Towers of empty glass bottles
And walls made of wandering smoke.

I'll walk,
To support him the entire way.

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