You have left your blood on the field.
Your visage is that of the victor,
wild and for the moment, elated,
but you cannot trust the face
of the victor, for
there is no pleasure in the war,
in the minute to minute slog
that has kept you alive.
There is only this moment
of being vibrantly alive
before the preparation begins
for tomorrow’s war.
About this poem
About politics, depression, addictions of all kinds, faith, and in the tough times, about life itself.
The picture was taken at a Renaissance Faire in Sterling, NY.