Warrior Poetry: These Are Not Tears • The Havok Journal

by Carl Martin Johnson

These are not tears running down my cheek.
I am sure it must be rain.
A sobbing man is shamefully weak,
No matter what the pain.

I am combat hardened,
Accustomed to much death.
My enemies go unpardoned.
I cut off their final breath.

But this battle is one too far.

Piles of dead and dying.
I am sick and tired of war.
It is my soul that is crying.

One day men will kill no more.
That is what I pray.
My bloody actions I abhor.
The scenes won’t go away.

Yet warrior is what I am.
I disdain to weep.
Rain, not tears, by damn.
Although my hurt is deep.

～ Carl Martin Johnson ～

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This first appeared in The Havok Journal on January 24, 2017.

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