Soldiers on respite

We comb back our hair

Frayed and tattered by the wind

Greased pulled back stumped fingers

sometimes biting at the bit

checking faces in mirrors

is this really me?

Is my tie on straight?…

Image

It all culminates

Begins

And while battered

And bruised

Blistered and subjected

To cruel worlds of selfishness

We straightened our ties

Exhale,

breathe deeply

Stand up tall

And go back out into it

While in the background

The piano strikes up

A somber tune

Out of tune

Ringing down the corridor

Echoing off of the

“welcome, come again” mat

Springing through ringlets

Primed by fingers with nails

Chewed too low

And we hum along

To the song

Onward we those

Christian soldiers…

Now where did I leave

That war?

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