CHARLES JOHNSON
"Chuck"

WARRIOR SLEEPING

At night as I walk the field of battle once more;
Stepping over the dead, in my mind, evermore;
The smell of battle drifts in the wind,
and marks the slain with certain dread.

I know a part of me has died;
and from that I can never hide.
A crack in the armor of certainty;
that used to guide my steps with surety.

The visions continue to haunt me;
Deep into the nights long hours.
Where battlefields I visit;
Create a sweat of monumental showers.

Did you know sound can be remembered?
It can lay as heavy as a blanket;

On the dreaming, silently screaming, warrior.

©Copyright April 5, 2004 by Chuck Johnson