The Brave Poem by Adam Holmes
The Brave
Prepare for fighting
Paint up your face
War drums waken the sun
A young brave’s dream unfolds
In front of open eyes
Grip the spear
Draw your bow
Your moment has come
We will make a man out of you
Battle is an eternity too slow
Arrows
Enter the flesh
Exit the screams
Sons of sacrifice die with honor
Mother won’t stop weeping
The fallen son awaits resurrection
Then
Again
It sets
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 1:33:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
