Comrades

Comrades

I shook the hand of death today.
He bid me go and not to stay
within his realm’s eternal night
for I had words still left to write.

I woke up, as I’ve done before,
to fading strains of distant war.
Another time, another place
when I wore a much younger face.

I met him first in years long gone:
a visit while in Vietnam.
“Not yet,” he whispered in my ear
erasing all my long held fear.

I’ve seen him on the battlefield
making the bravest of men yield.
I’ve seen him take the final breath
from those touched by the hand of death.

For those who serve and those who wait
I saw that we all share this fate.
I questioned, “What could be our crime?”
His only answer was, “It’s time.”

“Someday,” he said, “you’ll understand
that each taking has long been planned.
This is a price that all must pay.”
He smiled. “It will be you one day.”

And so, I’ve journeyed through the years
in times of laughter, times of tears,
knowing that it all will end.
Death has become a constant friend.

The way gets steeper, yet I’ll climb
until I hear him say, “It’s time.”

An entry for "HONORING OUR VETERANS " 
Prompt: None
Line Count: 30
Form: End Rhyme in tetrameter.