Roving past the muddy land of holocaust,
a scotch mist caressing the meadows lasted minutes a less.
The jeepsy’s mirror echoed;
A Hope rose to serve territories.
Faintly sight turning a fade;
“Dad would be proud of me”, he told himself.
An M4 Carbine rest across his chest,
Like an anxious kid muddling over the pause from last night’s.
“Tonight I promise, Sweetheart” he sluggishly mumbled,
For bed time tales that never came.
Camouflaged with nature’s blend so earthy;
the achromic underneath.
Less of a human we observed,
more of a being within.
For kin of not one’s own, distant away from home,
As stiff as his uniform, a war god stood.
Engaged in a betting game;
with life on the line, to secure stripes of his emblem.
One Last cue;
To elate sensations,
unread on a twelve year run, once the crusade of a last.
Far behind the lieutenant’s, on a solitary intrusion
Walking the fields of not what an avid soccer boy yearned,
“What could this boy merely achieve in life
if not from a soldier…”
“….we look upon you, to witness a soldier someday”
pressed by words into deep grey seas.
For longing desires to drown,
were held ’til his throat,
yet he was choking down,
with answers heard by none,
that leached through a heart-tender
by an anchor hard-crusted,
Now like the robust shields of an armed militant.
Like the hush once a rush thus catastrophic,
withdrawals flew in below the waxed cachet,
for the crisis to call-off.
A peace movement post-warfare,
Yet the trails of grief, stirring in the silence?
“…Although a hero,
here’s for;
a child who was to pick a lane of not his path,
growing up into a man who misplaced his soul,
over an oath drawn to meet another’s hope.
I love you”
Bidding farewell with this letter, Hannah grieved.
Laying a posy of White lilies to stargaze at silent grey skies,
before the very eyes of her brother’s portrait
at his mourning ceremony.
Strange Aesthete 
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