As I gird on for fighting

Alfred Edward Housman

    As I gird on for fighting
    My sword upon my thigh,
    I think on old ill fortunes
    Of better men than I.

    Think I, the round world over,
    What golden lads are low
    With hurts not mine to mourn for
    And shames I shall not know.

    What evil luck soever
    For me remains in store,
    �Tis sure much finer fellows
    Have fared much worse before.

    So here are things to think on
    That ought to make me brave,
    As I strap on for fighting
    My sword that will not save.

Every day I select a war poem, and respond to it, generally in poetic form. But perhaps not. Each poem grabs at something a little differently. Sometimes the themes blend together, sometimes they contradict. Many poets, were veterans themselves, others not. Their perspectives vary, and the poetry does in response. I’ll continue to do this as long as I keep finding poetry that explores novel or meaningful themes. You know, until the well runs dry.

One last patrol

Brushed and oiled, locked and loaded
Safety on, strapped, tapped, ready to go
Pistol holstered, rifle slung, blade sheathed
Patrol preparations, one more, always one

Someday none, one way or another
Doc says, the bleeding always stops
It does, one way or another, always
One final patrol, or another, and another

Until, it stops. Or I stop, it can’t stop
Patton said, don’t die for your country
Another bastard should, and they did
Or will, better bastards, than this one

One last patrol, today, or someday past
Housman and his athlete dying young
Better bastards, see the end of war
Will I? or will I watch, our sons patrol

If anyone reads this, and thinks I started with the intention of circling back to A.E. Housman, that is a coincidence. I didn’t realize that his poem To an Athlete Dying Young was his, until I looked up the author. I made the choice between him and Billy Joel, Only the Good Die Young. And the connection was too good to pass up.

Photo by Bernd Hippler on Unsplash