February 27, 2010


Posted in poems tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , at 4:12 am by Mark

My strength is sapped from out of the air
As the nearby star pelts me from above,
This work – this waste – of being in the sand
While the heat, fatigue, and heavy armor
Drag down my shoulders. That burden,
More than simple weight, rides upon me.
Atlas had it easy, since geography
Does not move like borders before soldiers.
We fill the ground with enemy dead,
But the pressure upon us never relieves,
For the duty and responsibility, those hopes,
All depend on an ideal no human ever sees:
That soldiers are more than mere men,
And their actions are always just and right.



  1. wordwand said,

    I felt a strange weight in the words of the poem which is tantamount to the burden on the soldiers’ shoulders.a well written poem.

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