Task

A soldier escaped death when countless others hadn’t,

Guilty feeling crept, stemmed, a rose from brothers’ graves,

Did blind luck or third eye premonition waves,

Leave him on this Earth for paramount purpose?

An evil eye that backfired casted hardened spirit within,

Responsibility strapped to his back, army pack composed,

Of aspirations, plans to carry out personal missions,

Liberty, time only bound his hands now, a wristwatch,

Left him to his own devices,

Bigger worries clouded his mind, a thought;

What if he fell back, wasn’t able to catch up in time,

would his children witness his dreams before he died?

How could he possibly tell them to chase theirs,

if he hadn’t tried, ‘till dying breath, to hunt down his?

Grew up straight laced, never was good at lying,

Easier to stay honest, although out of many he got a rise,

He enjoyed the bitterness of truth instead of sweet lies,

Always had a peculiar taste, but I’m not surprised,

Given a soldier’s ration, a soldier’s task.