NOCTURNAL RITUAL

Weapons clash,
I scream in pain.
Blood flows
from the dagger's piercing.
I awake, drenched
in cold sweat, shivering,
screaming in the darkness,
wondering when it will end--
This nightly dying.
Will I ever win
this nocturnal ritual
of pain and death?
Will I ever taste
the sweet savor of victory,
or forever drink
the bitter herbs of defeat.

©Copyright October 12, 2001 by Charles F. "Butch" Lesley

Author’s Note: This poem came to me one night as I was thinking of men who nightly relive terrible experiences of war