To my friends at the LC; For the Veterans on LC; For my Family; For my Brothers and Sisters in arms:
This is a work that I did in 1997 as part of a counseling program for PTSD. There have been many similar type works out there, but this one is unique, as it was written over the course of only about 15 minutes as I poured my heart out on to paper. Some will understand, others will not.
For those that have family in the sandbox;
Your Brother/Sister/Son/Daughter/Father/Mother will seem different after they return. They will have a different look in their eyes... a serious one. Use this to learn. Use this to understand. Use this to love again!
Please feel free to repost this, but PLEASE... This is copywrited work. Please leave this unchanged in content!
Thanks,
Dave Stopher
www.davestopher.com/warrior.htm
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Shed no tear for me for I am a warrior. I chose my path willingly, only to be granted my wish. I've suffered, I've toiled, and I’ve bled because I was told to do so for a greater cause. I helped, I fought, I prayed, Oh, I prayed more. I cried, and sometimes, I died. My friends will not get old; they will be immortally young. I fear getting old. The ones that left behind loved ones are the lucky ones. Those that have someone to loose, there fight is bittersweet. Some will not know love, and yet, some will.
I am a Warrior. I fight, I bleed, I cry. If you shed a tear for me, shed it only in pride. Do not cry for me, cry WITH me, for my brothers have fallen. They gave life for words like God, Honor, Country, and Duty. They served a greater cause, not unlike these four simple words. They secured an idea for us to follow. They are the bankers, the truck drivers, the meat cutters and the factory workers. They heard a calling that is far too soft for most to hear. They gave their lives so others might be spared.
I am a Warrior. My tales may neither always be whole, nor always truth, but they are mine. They are as my eyes remember. Some funny, some sad, they bring back memories of my youth and innocence lost. They tell of far away places, and not so familiar faces. They give undue credit at times, yet are humble at others. They tell of men who have become as brothers and friends. They tell of the odd good deed when most would be tempted to be evil. They tell of justice served through fate, or of humor, jokes, and pranks. They shed light on places and events that would otherwise be left for the dry text in history books and make them seem as though they were, and are, real.
I am a Warrior. I am strong in body and in spirit. I may not be in my prime, but yet I am. I have aged and matured. I no longer wish for wars and battles, but for peace and serenity. Long past are the desires for revenge or destruction. They have been replaced by a need for reparations and creations. The eyes of a warrior long to look upon the face of a babe that needs protection. Those eyes yearn for approving looks and admiration.
My arms have seen toil and strife. They have been used as tools, and as weapons. They, only now, know the pain they have brought on. Now, they wish for usefulness and skill. They hope for talent so that they may provide for another. They hope that someday they will be needed to hold a child or even walk that child down an aisle into the arms of another.
My ears have heard screams and cries. They have been subjected to harsh sounds of battle that make the demons cringe. They are now dull in their interpretation. They no longer have acuteness and a sharp edge. They hear dull sounds, muffled noises. They will not, however, be ever able to ignore a crying plea for a child. They will hear names that will bring the largest to tears, but yet also names that make Pride obvious to others. Oh, to hear the stillness in nature with a breeze rustling the giant trees from their calm.
I am a Warrior. My soul yearns for peace, for the rest of my body has experienced that bliss. As long as there is oppressed or evil, none of our souls will truly be at rest. Evil lurks, and though the body has come to calm, the mind and soul of the Warrior will remain in the storm. It will maintain its vigil against darkness and despair, though it journeys there at great length. The Warrior has learned that by knowing your enemy, you will be better suited to combat it. This leads to questions unanswered, and problems unsolved. The true Warrior’s soul will always ask, “How will I succeed?” It only knows one answer, and that is through God.
The Warrior’s soul longs for a place called Heaven, and the rewards that are promised there. Someday, that place will be a possibility. My God has promised me the opportunity to visit, so long as I serve with his Warriors faithfully, and according to His rules. This is my ultimate and most important fight. I pray that my journey ends in victory.
The Warrior has a strange method and unusual habits. Though not known to many, he has these for reasons. He talks proudly of foreign soils visited and things learned there. Not always meant in braggadocio, the Warrior’s tale seems tall and distant, sometimes nostalgic. His tales aren’t always meant for everyone, but he sometimes does not understand. He only wishes to share his memories that cause him inner strife so that he may eventually come to peace within his soul.
His habits are not always the best, for he learned only to succeed, not be the neatest. He comes, and then he returns, not always knowing where his journey will lead. Only God can answer this, and most will never realize their true path. The Warrior knows his direction, just not the best path. That will come in time, through hard work, a dose or ten of anguish, and more importantly, prayer. Do not pity the Warrior, merely pray for his journey.
Though he walks in silently, his worst habit is to leave a large trail wherever he has been. This is from his personality and pride. The Warrior isn’t always proud of his trail, but always happy to be on the path to his next destination.
The Warriors life isn’t always the best. It seems to have some of the hardest ground to cover. He knows that his path ahead is not the best, but he always trudges on, never ceasing his journey. He has few friends to take with him simply because most cannot accept the life he leads. Few that are not like the Warrior will ever know him from his soul. They likely will admire him from afar and be cautious to take to him. Those that make that step into his life will understand eventually that he is determined to make that step a rewarded movement with a lifetime of devotion and love.
The Warrior knows love indeed. His love is not for himself, nor self-serving. It is a love of devotion and dedication to ideas and friends, to family, and to God. He expects very little in return for his love. He knows that he is commonly misunderstood, and has accepted that fact. His need to love is greater than most will understand, only surpassed by his need to be loved.
The Warrior’s future holds no guarantee. It is a life of fluidity and motion that never ends. It can end in success or failure. Only God knows which. Only the Warrior can decide his path, though his love for others guides it along the way. His future is blurred by fate, probably for a reason. To let his guard down, he becomes vulnerable. Although he allows love to take him by the hand, almost too readily, he will merely react by returning his guard in an ever expanding circle around those he calls his own. The Warrior’s family will know safety and warmth in his embrace. If there should ever be a doubt in him, let his deeds show his proof. He will march the long path to his journey’s end to prove his dedication above reproach.
Shed no tear for me for I am a Warrior.
Used by permission
© Copyright 1997,
David Stopher
