Psonnets of Friendship
The War Hero

My sword is sheathed and shadowed by my shroud.
My hearse has followed horse's hooves, my steed
the last from battlefields, the last to lead,
and whether victory or vengeance vowed,
my widowed wife and children weep aloud.
I answered calls to arms. I knew the need.
I fought till friends and family were freed.
Now at my farm, the final field is plowed.
I would have been content to plow that field
and harvest wheat and barley from my farm,
but plowshares into swords are beaten, yield
the wound for wheat and blood for barley, harm
from which the widow's heart no one can shield,
and orphaned sons again take up the arm.
~ by Michael Rew / Email: witness@psonnets.org