Of War and Illness

Far into the corner
Where sunlight reaches not
Where Death awaits a victim
To bring another to his lot
A shadow of a man
Does lay quiet in his bed
So ravaged by an illness
He whispers with the dead
They share with him their secrets
Of a world that waits beyond
Of a place where sickness is not known
And life continues on;
But love still keeps him tethered
To the steely bonds of earth
And a prayer soft is murmured
From those who gather by the hearth
But his breath is slowly shallow
And his heart does wish to still
His flesh is weak and weary
From the war it wages still
For the enemy is hostile
It will not claim defeat
‘Til man’s last breath is ushered out
‘Til death’s cold hand does touch his feet—

Yes, Death is waiting for him
With a gift of sweet reprieve
From the pain that aches and spills and twists
And brings his soul down to its knees—
And once this war is over
And his chest does rise no more;
When a final word of mourning
Comforts those upon the floor;
A new unbidden soldier
Will seek again some virgin flesh
To infect anew an unwitting soul
And play war games once again.