Brian’sPoems

On the Battlefield

Who’s the real casualty?

From time to time
I’ll encounter a man
with a razor sharp edge,
jagged, like obsidian
forged in volcanic fires.

I feel relieved
to confront him at peace
and working alongside men
on blunting his sharp desires,
especially his basest instincts
to bring others to heel
with the tip of his spear.

When this man awakens
it’s often after a long battle,
and the fallen warrior he sees
is always the same one
staring at him in the mirror.