Water greedily drinks blood from the dead
while the rest of the world is wrapped in sleep.
I cleanse my sword of the blood it had shed
and pretend I cannot hear my men weep.
The moon wears black like a wife in mourning.
Bodies litter the shore both friend and foe.
Could this bloodbath just have been a warning?
Fear sends me to the ground like a deathblow.
Off in the distance a fire rises high,
breaking through the dark and spreading its light.
Its beauty fills me with hope and I sigh.
Perhaps there's nothing to fear, all is right.
Then I noticed what I hadn't before,
the sky was as red as the blood-stained shore.
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Comments about this poem (Soldier's Warning by Jessie Hopkins )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
James Weldon Johnson
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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