A Weathered Cross

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Soldiers heart.

Submitted: November 08, 2018

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Submitted: November 08, 2018



A Weathered Cross


It is always silent,

When a friend is put in the dirt.

But what remains is no longer your friend,

Just an empty husk, 

For the Spirit has gone.


For the Living it is memories that remain,

Families have it best and worst.

The memory of Love remains,

But also the realisation, 

That they too are finite.


We all end.

But to place our brothers in the dirt,

We lose a part of ourselves.

It becomes a question of why

And I wish it was me?

Then we are reminded...


Life is so much more than death,

There is joy as well as pain.

Laughter and tears

As well as tears of laughter.

We are found in our mess,

Brought to Life and Loved.


I looked upon the altar of my regrets,

At the scars upon my hands.

I wondered at my Life

And even amidst my pain,

I could find joy and a hot meal,

Were not to far away.


This altar was small,

Maybe about a girl I wished I married,

But who felt nothing for me...

I did not feel pain,

Sadness at the goodbye,

But I know I will see my friend again.


It is always silent here on earth,

When a friend is put in the dirt.

But in Heaven a party begins,

As the sojourner is welcomed in.


They lay their crowns at Jesus' feet,

A multitude of witnesses erupt in applause,

Cheering them on,

As they finish their race and a new one begins.


For there is Joy before us,

Joy which helps us to endure.

A Joy indescribable, 

Which carries us home when we are done and tired,

Joy and Love which carry us home in the arms of Our Father.

Our bodies fade,

But Our Spirit is Welcomed Home.


I Looked up once more from the dirt.

Tears in my eyes.

For I saw the faithful Honour Guard.

Brothers Who have passed on,

Joining Our Brother in the March.

His soul was not tortued, 

There was a smile on his face and in his eyes.

Yes, he did march on.


He approached the Gates of Pearl.

His Belief was sure and true.

Again another laid down his crowns,

Kneeling before The King,

He was welcomed Home.

This brother of ours,

Our Brother.


One Day we will see Him again.

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