A Soldiers Lament
The soldier stands and fights alone
Upon the windswept hill
The flag of Heaven by his side
The battle his Master’s will
His armour bears the marks of war
Each place tested by the foe
His sword still swings with practiced ease
His Saviour’s might to show.
And underneath the armour
His skin is tough and strong,
His hands still cleave to the Ancient Sword,
Though the battle rages long.
Look! The enemy gathers it strength
The final onslaught to fling
The soldier grins a mirthless smile
And lifts his voice to sing.
But ere the notes begin to float
Across the battlefield
The soldier falters, stoops, and falls
His Sword no more to wield
An arrow pierces deep his chest
And glistens wetly in the sun
The soldier grasps the steely shaft
And realizes what is done.
It did not come from out in front,
From the enemy’s fierce war
It was from behind, from the ones he loved
Those he fought the battle for!
And as his breath was hushed in death
He cried a mournful song
“Lord, deliver me from those behind
The ones who know my wrong.”
“The children whom I’ve succored
And who have turned aside,
The comrades who’ve fought slightly
And then have gone to hide.”
“And guard me most of all, dear Lord,
From those next to my skin
My very flesh, bone of my bone
Who cuts me cruel within.”
-CPH 2009
Learning to Run 