Beat Of Life Poem by samuel faye

 
The battle rages on the front lines
between the nagging doubts of yesterday
and the beckoning hopes of tomorrow.
No one hears the battle cry of the wounded spirit
within these warriors dressed as; daughters, mothers, friends,
employees, lovers, joggers, wealthy sons of wealthy fathers.
These battles seem to rage on in silence,
buried deep beneath the shirts and ties, these permanent press garments
we've hidden behind for years, perhaps for longer.
Weapons, both of our own making,
as well as others born of circumstance are hurled -
chisels attempt the destruction of our carefully mortared egos.
Below the surface of my apron,
deeper than the layers of your conscious mind,
we've hidden these battles.
Attempts to silence the ever increasing volume
of the self-accusations and external incriminations fail
as darkness veils the light of summer sun and harvest moon.
These battles rage - for everyone who's lived,
who's laughed and loved.
They rage because the battle fields of our souls
suit their purpose, fuel their existence.
They rage because we are simply;
the girl next door, the man down the street.
Simply the tourist on the beach or the checker at the store.
The battle rages simply because we are, after all,
human.
 
I was walking through the store
gathering the things on my list and watching faces.
Some smiled, some frowned, some looked away.
But I was certain as I passed,
if I listened closely with my heart,
I could hear the familiar sounds of their battles.
Each facing their giants.
Each carrying their load.
And my battle felt less lonely for that moment,
as the sounds of swordplay became
the beat of life.....

Written by: ~S~S