soldier of the heart

[desmond dillon]

   

the day that they turned old enough 

my brothers went to war, 

the same way that our father did before us. 

when the army sent them overseas 

they seemed pretty glad to go, 

with their uniforms and guns they looked decorous.

but the hardships of a soldier's life 

never called out to me, 

i was buddha, i could see,

i was moses on the hill, 

with no commandments, 

though i felt sure that cosmic lore 

was looking out for me and would never be denied,

i had a restlessness to still 

and a longing to fulfil 

and i couldn't say what that signified. 

so i set off most cheerfully,

the love of God to find,

my  eyes were round and kind 

my hands were soft and fine 

and people that i met 

were the kind of folk who get 

over sadness and sorrow very quickly.

for some time things looked promising,

i felt like i was free,

it was happening for me,

my saintly guarantee, 

the plum was ripe and ready for my picking.

then in this time of wandering 

i heard about a man 

who was showing what it meant 

to get everything you can out of life 

and find the meaning for existing.

when i asked him for the thing he knew, 

he taught me most freely,

he had generosity and encouragement for me, 

his desire to set me free was all persisting.

but that strange sense of restlessness 

meant more than i had known.

wasn't just a noise 

that dogs make when barking.

it was every way this strange world has 

to destroy the peace of mind 

and the innocence of children to darken.

you may say i got more 

than i bargained for, 

to put it succinctly,

his whole priority 

was to awaken.

he said, 'one day you will know why

i started early as i did.'

and i learned how far along i had been taken.

you can dream about a holiday,

look forward all the year,

but when the time draws near,

the true reality

is far greater than the sum of all imaginings.

though i did not know it at the time,

i joined the ranks that day.

a place was made for me

and i became

a soldier of the heart.

              ***

by Chris Hammerton

[Eva Libre]

Thanks Desmond, it's timely!