Soldier Soul Poem by Mark Christmas

“Purvey me your soul, ”
The Devil cried,
To a war-torn and downtrodden warrior,
“We’ll descend through the Earth,
An insidious place,
Much deeper than any old collier.”

Looked up from the ground,
The young soldier did,
Looked him firm and square in the eye,
“I’ve done no wrong,
Just done as I’m told
And I’ll not visit you and fry.”

The Devil looked back,
A pervasive glance,
Said, “You’ll come with me it’s your time.”
“We’ll plunge to the core,
To my sizzling lounge
And there you’ll pay for your crime.”

A cool, subtle retort
Came from the young man,
“I’m not the reason you came.”
“In a place just like this,
Ubiquitous, you are
And you’re looking for someone to blame.”

“Blame? ” He replied,
“No not on your life,
I’m looking for someone to praise.”
“He’s an equal to me,
As black as can be,
A salute and a glass we’ll raise.”

“Whoever he is,
He‘s done a good job,
Of embroiling himself in this war.”
“With reasons that are
So way above me,
So why? Even I’m not sure.”

The soldier rang back,
“No neither am I,
I was sent here, my job is to fight,
I do as I’m told,
Day in and day out,
I don’t reason what’s wrong and what’s right.”

“Well, you’re not the one
I’m looking for.”
The riposte made the soldier relax.
“There are much bigger fish,
Out there to get snagged,
In the boiling pot, now that’s Iraq.”

“So what is your name? ”
The Devil asked boy,
“It’s George, I’m a patron saint,
“And the reason I’m here,
Is to defend against you,
The soldiers whose names that you taint.”

The Devil’s jaw dropped,
An exchange then ensued,
A battle of pure good ‘gainst pure evil.
With no weapons drawn,
Just colloquy and chat,
Between George and a fed up old Devil.

When they came to the end,
A decision was made,
About who would make Hell’s extradition?
Not the soldiers at all,
Though they fight and they fall,
It must be, A war monger politician.