THE CHARGE

I cannot make you win the war.

I will not pick up your sword and fight for you.

I cannot abhor the blood shed for us both.

I have not the strength to carry all.

My body has been mauled by living corpses and dead ones alike.

The spikes have been driven into me in sadistic rhythm

And by the grace of God the schism of self and selfless have only grown farther apart.

This charge I give to you:

That you forge though the briars, a burning flame, the consuming fire.

The mighty hand of God on this lonely sod,

That all might will proclaim, and every tongue profess the name

Of our lord on bended knee.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s