A wife's promise to a soldier. Revolutionary war is the setting |
War Promises By Ryan Sundin The bread was baking, the butter churning The children playing, a man's heart burning The drums of war beat in his head the thoughts of patriots, heroic, yet dead. The flames from the hearth were dancing like war He must now uphold the oath that he swore He loaded his musket, lead balls at the ready gunpowder stored, hands were unsteady His thoughts began to wander; Unable to stay clear He'd not lived a soldiers life, he'd farmed here for years He'd plowed and he'd raked, he'd seeded and tilled But nothing prepares a man for blood to be spilled His country needed him, now more than ever He's heard from his friends it's a pointless endeavor How jaded they are, this war affects us all Each man loses something, however precious or small The men who wore coats, crimson as of blood He'd be fighting his kin, his bretheren dead amid the mud He shook off this doubt that ate at him like a beast And stood up from his chair, prepared to head east. He slung his rifle around his back The strap hanging loosely, in preparation for attack He walked past his children playing as they should He held his wife firmly, and said goodbye for good The tears that she wept, were plainly seen without But this man's tears were shed inside his soul of doubt. He asked for her blessing, she gave it without pause Then promised he would live, not be a nameless loss. He nodded and sighed, and turned away from his home His life was a soldiers, his heart was now stone He walked to the barracks, as he was plainly informed His rations were given, and a salute was performed The men near by greeted him with a grin But no smile was given, the mans face seemed quite grim He didn't sleep in his tent, with four other men. And cared not for jests, he was not one of them Time trickled by with little result Perhaps soon he would return home, and leave this revolt The war seemed to have ended, the gunfire was naught With tears in his eyes, on this evening he thought. This man trusted his wife's promise, he would survive each new day But then cannon fire was heard, not too far away the battalion awoke, orders screamed and uniforms adorned Trying to bring order to a chaos ridden storm The musket balls flew, the man readied his gun. He'd prepared for this moment, and knew what must be done He took aim at the enemy, ready to kill He steadied himself, feeling the thrill His finger pulled back, a loud crack played amongst the sky Then the man slumped over, with hell raging in his eyes. His wife had lied. Where was his reprieve? He'd been hit in the heart, a mortal wound indeed What promise can be kept in the heat of such war? This shock and such pain he was not prepared for. "Goodbye my dear, i will not return home The children will miss me, and you are alone." |