The Warrior
The Warrior.
My Son came home.
For a well earned rest.
Six months he served.
He was the best.
In his shining, brand new jet.
He looked the same.
Childish face, loving grin.
What did you do?
My fine young man.
I killed more than anyone.
I made the earth boil.
Hospitals, churches, all succumb.
To the dropping of my bomb.
But John.
We raised you to be loving and kind.
Not the ravaging, evil kind.
How can you do these terrible things?
It's OK Dad.
They are not real people, you know.
Only fodder.
For me to blow.
I am doing my duty.
To God and King.
My orders are, kill everything.
John, you are no longer my son.
I renounce you.
For what you have done
God will not forgive you, nor I.
You are covered in blood and sin.
You rejoice in it, within.
.................................
Copyright © Norman Purvis | Year Posted 2007
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