A tree on the battlefield
I have grown from nothing—
but brutality and blood.
My roots are drenched in crimson strength—
and an even deeper red for loss.
The soldiers on this battlefield,
like me, stand tall—
fighting for something…
even if that something is nothing at all.
So much pain.
So much violence.
How many bittersweet ends have been met
on the ground I have claimed
and the ground I have kept?
Misery has carved itself deep
into this little bit of earth,
yet here I grow—
strong and unbroken,
as courageous as them all
as fierce and mighty as the first,
And like the tears their loved ones bear
once they learn their soldier has fallen…
the blood-stained grass still weeps.
May the fallen hear
the sweet call of peace.
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