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My Warrior’s Path
Sherrill Ann Moody
Picture with me a garden, my son
With rows of the strongest trees
Paths that wind and tell a tale
Of quiet bended Knees
Picture with me your life ahead
The grandeur of love and strength
Where soldiers bow and love holds strong
And children play at length
Picture with me the battle designed
With years of confusion and pain
Our quiet counsels, your faith in God
Your sun filled heart would be maimed
Picture with me the pacing of floors
The dizzying bouts of chaos
The attempts to live the attempts to numb
Any connection with you was lost
Picture with me our pleading for you
For the boy of our hearts’ return
The light once lifting others’ hearts
Dying in a hellish burn.
Picture with me that fateful day
Holidays in full swing
Your quiet exit, a space left bare
Stark, blank, sorrow it would bring
Picture our sacred moments that day
When our warrior son was done
When your fateful challenge would find it’s end
Your sore battle ever be won
Picture with me your garden, my son
With rows of majestic trees
The paths you know and traveled so well
What more would I ask of these?
Published by Sherrill Moody
6 years ago 
