Marching

I have my boots on, with my warrior here beside me -

We march beneath the midday sun,

Cheeks fresh with the sharp silent breeze

And we know that we cannot be defeated.

---

The ancient path before us winds like a desert snake,

Previous skins are shed, dead upon the grasses

Either side of us, as we approach our secret forest,

Trembling as we begin to photosynthesise

---

And the birds ring out, shattering the steeple,

Alerting the sleeping soldiers to our arrival.

---

At once we recognise the new world –

Ready but at peace as the sun climbs up the trees,

Soothing the worried weeds and the ivy is playing

Games with the saplings – a deer, a man, blue seas?

---

But as I face our road again, I see one ‘man’ down –

Lying across our way, dead upon a crying land

And we weep too; I mourn over the slaughter of a friend,

His leaves clutched tight in my fist,

Anger seething within me as I sense no more life.

---

The shadows shroud me; the sun burns a little lower,

The birds are resting.

---

All I can hear is the grumble of cars as they rave

Along the motorways, oblivious of these screams,

And the sky has been ripped crudely

By a thousand careless mistakes.

Trees have fallen, murdered near the road

And the ones still fighting are thin.

Rations are low.

---

I let my soul brighten our secret forest

Before turning away, hands full of the enemy’s waste,

With a hopeful smile drawn upon my face –

We will win.

---

(- not the poem - again, if anybody would be kind enough to tell me how to get separate stanzas rather than these stupid lines that would be greatly appreciated! danke, Ax)