A Soldier Thinks On War and Peace
by Michael Doyle

Santayana told a soldier's life was true,
When in a soliloquy  written as if for you,
He reminded us that only the dead have seen war end.
The rest of us? We will fight on, just a little more.

When a soldier loses a rifle, he pays the cost.
But what happens to a general when a war is lost?
The soldier who has fought with valor is demoted.
The politician and his general?  They are promoted.

It will do to tell this truth to all within reach,
Be it in a whisper or boldly in a speech.
Like Sherman, I find war's glory to be so much moonshine.
Reaching for my spoonful of glory, I found the blood was mine.

The best of us fight for what we've left behind.
I see this, though my eyes are now blind.
Only war or music happens when language fails
Either way, the rest of us stumble on through Hell.

If, dear brother, you wonder at the inference,
I will hint that most of life is a matter of appearances.
Your silence now makes you neither weak nor strong.
It can be either, but both are simply wrong.

Though we both fought for the necessary and justified,
It feels like a crime for which we were brutally tried.
The verdict is that there is no war to end all wars,
Just a continuing set of ever-revolving doors.

They judge us as among the best with our capability,
As we fight their wars to our best tainted ability.
Now, I watch you die, and I wonder if it wouldn't be better,
If we could only learn, somehow, to live together.

The rulers wage these wars in which we die
And though they call me strong, I sit here and I cry.
What is the good of war? And how can peace be bad?
Those who speak of glory must be slightly mad...

Peace may make for poor reading in history,
But to a soldier who has fought, it's no mystery
To plainly see the sacrifice without a significant return,
And to wonder if mankind will ever truly learn.

This soldier, who has known war, wishes for peace,
And if not the sweetness of peace, my release.
My soul aches for all the misery that I have brought.
Is this truly the victory that we have sought?

(c) September 24, 2925   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved