A Warrior Unsatisfied By Winning The War

I battled poverty and won. Now what do I do?

Is it wrong of me to sorely miss

those times when my life hung

by an old, frayed cotton thread

when I have a blessed time like this

where all is lush and easy and only

peaceful thoughts fill my head?

 

Why can't I just enjoy this

uncomplicated, free, uninhibited

thankfully ordinary way of life

without having the occasional wish

to return to the days when all I knew

was pain, hardship, and bitter strife?

 

Misery is exciting, I shall suppose-

that struggle to survive and grow

into something more than self

Poverty breeds contempt but also

a reason to live- you have to fight!

now my boxing gloves rest on a shelf

 

I want something to fight for as I

have become accustomed to anger

to the inflammation caused by need

and now I find myself knowing that

to want one bit more out of myself

would be an ugly kind of greed

 

Is it wrong of me to ache now

to hear a shot in the dark, a shot

ringing through me to inspire action?

What I have is all I've ever fought for

but when the battle is done how

can the warrior feel no satisfaction?

 

I'll pick up my pen, that's what I'll do

and write a few simple verses to say

"cruel world , I'm still here, impatient

for the fight to pick me up again and I

am not only willing to fight for me

but for poverty to end within our nation."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Tony]

Excellent.