Warrior

They say a man is tested
not by his strength, but his bravery
(for fearlessness has only ever meant
folly in the eyes of the old fighters).

You then, walking
across landmines of the blackest humor,
you, speaking like your tongue was laced
with gunpowder and the flickering sparks
of a bloody revolution
would stand tall enough to taste the sky, for you
fight fire with fireworks, bright as suns and
explosive as fledgling universes,
you wield wildly the thunderstorms
hidden in your throat,
and your eyes are the fiercest
I have ever seen.

This battle belongs to you, soldier,
you with your brilliant words, blazing through
the empty cries of men
who could have known better.

This battle belongs to you, soldier,
you with your invincible spirit, rushing recklessly
into fields covered in broken ideas, redder
than the blood of any fighter.

You are so much more than
a man brave enough to die,
brave enough to live,
you are a man brave enough to fight
for all that he believes in,
in the face of a world
ready to destroy the dreams of both
the weak and the wayward -
because this is a war,
and you were born to be a warrior.

You fight for more than
that golden call of victory -
you fight for honor, honor
you cannot stopper in bottles and
sell as spoils of the war, honor
you cannot bring home in swords
and golden medals, honor
that you only win
with courage borne
of sacrifice
and fighting with every breath left within you.
And in this fight
there is no space for surrender,
there is no room for retreat.

Come back with your shield, or on it.