The wounded souldier marches on …
Alone inside.
Friends fell beneath bayonets.
Comrades fell away.
Enemies fall upon his life.

Rocks beneath his feet,
Branches scrap his face
Chains restrain his wrists,
Clasped, as though in prayer.
Heavy pack imposed upon his frame.
Taken captive by his foes.
Stripped of gun and flag,
Marching with his foreign guides.

And now,
Cold cell.
Cold gruel.
Cold steps.
Unbroken heart—fiery hot.
Walls are near,
Death is nearer,
God is nearer still …
Life abounds.

False lights do not entice.
Tears taste refreshingly salty-warm.
Freedom has come today …
Free to rest,
Bound but blessed