It’s terrible to think that I’ve had such a hiatus from blogging here! I do apologise to all my followers, and thank you all for sticking with me. The past few months have been consumed by endless work, but honestly I’m not complaining– I’ve found a job which I really love, which is bettered by awesome people who keep me laughing and enrich my life, and which teaches me every single day.
But enough about that– on to this long overdue post! This poem is written in the context of (guess when…) World War II; but it was inspired by the struggles of life which I’ve observed in both myself and in friends of mine. It speaks to the stoicism of the human spirit, and in doing so I think it preaches a message of hope– that even when things are full of despair, we still find a way to carry on and reach something better. I hope you enjoy it.
The Soldier that Endured
Walking on the Tula road
A weary figure passed me by
Her steps were slow, but still they showed
The burning of her pride.
Her rifle held in one hand,
The other hand fell low
Crimson and scarred, Red as our Star
Which endures from long ago.
I watched her labour on at length
Her back hunched and tired
Weak but still bearing agony with strength,
A strength to be admired.
Her face was young, yet bore pain
Of years it had not seen
Its naivety had waxed and waned, but grit remained
In all the hours between.
As she passed, I spoke to her
And asked how she prevailed
The blood and gore that mauled and tore
Our hearts until we failed–
With startling eyes she said,
“There were hours I could not survive
And all through my head I believed I was dead
Until I breathed and was alive.”
Then she was gone, that soldier brave
And I pondered quietly
After all the battles through which I slaved,
Perhaps that soldier was me.