Last Tattoo

Gate to Seoul

When the battle is over
When the mission is done
When the tour has ended
With the casing of the guns

When the bugle plays the last note
A soldier’s mind begins to roam
To the things missed on the mission
Hearth, Homeland, Family, and Home

While the time afield was passing
Living, dying, victory, pain
So too back home was changing
Growing, dying, so much loss and gain

From the monotony of the battlefield
Days of boredom, moments of strife
To the monotony of normality
Daily living the family life

The soldier holds two worlds in balance
Both of duty, and of station
Committed fully to both causes
Love of family and of nation

Eventually every watch is over
And every deployment ends
Then a fading old soldier and family
Find time and place where life begins

The Cairns Gave Root

The tunnel was only long enough,

For the darkness to be complete.

Cruciform, it parted to three niches.

In each, stone urns of charred flesh.

 

But on the winter solstice,

The sun pierces the cross’ cleft.

A priestess waits in the trinity,

And is born again from the light.

 

The novice, with hair of flames,

Taps the stones along the cairn.

Her music pleases the fairies,

And directs the wind back home.

 

She revolves with the wind,

White robes carrying the ash,

Torsion. Twisting copper flares,

One stone reaches out for her.

 

They burn for her, the seer.

She kneels to hear the stone.

The novice touches the spirit,

Remembers her to the living.

 

As the sun warms her skin,

She laughs. It wasn’t the moors,

Or trees, so generous with greens.

The dark and stones gave root.