The Soldier Poem by Marilyn Shepperson

I stand high upon the castle wall
Looking over the parapet
At the grassy plain below
And the distant misty, undulating hills
From whence will come the enemy
We've had word; they're on their way
I wish that they would hurry up
Let the battle begin; I am ready
I feel strong, though I have to accept
That this day may be my last
So I quietly utter yet another
One last, final prayer
But as so many must also be praying
I just hope mine will be heard
They may defeat us; they are many
What then, death, torture or slavery
A common soldier; I'm not worth anything
Therefore no imprisonment for me
On the hope of a ransom being paid
I look to either side at my companions
I get a grin, a smile, even a forced laugh
Such bravedo, none of it true
Then when I look to the front again
I can see the enemy coming quickly
Much faster than was ancitipated
And I know that now
No matter how much we may grin or laugh
We are, each of us, wishing it was still yesterday.