Rise

The warrior trips, falls on his face.
A nation stops its noise.
A tragedy is made possible,
More bitter than was Troy's.
For if this warrior, so battered,
Chooses not to rise,
Nation will fight nation,
For he made no further tries.
It's been three years plus thirty
Since I was given birth.
I have struggled all throughout
To find my own true worth.
It's easy to see beauty
In those who round me stand.
It's been near impossible at times
To see the good God, in me, planned.
The warrior who has fallen,
Breathing hard and low,
Shakes his head wearily.
He does not want to go.
A warrior wanting peace, instead
Of conflict, grief, and death,
Fights to keep eyes open
And to maintain his own life breath.
All round the warrior,
Those he does not see
Fight for him and fight against him,
To make him slave or set him free.
While the battle's fought,
Without and within,
The Hand That Wrote All
Gives the earth another spin
These forces, each in action,
Powerful that they are,
Will not, cannot stop the warrior
From choosing to go far.
Warrior's will to endure
Carries him every stumble.
Storm and tempest powerless,
Though elements may rumble.
Three plus thirty-thousand
Long, hard years of pain...
Warrior, richer than any,
Learns heartache brings great gain.
You who read these words, realize
Who and what you are:
God's own son or daughter,
Worth more than endless stars.
Nothing can, or will, force you
To halt, or pause, or quit.
You are looking for a miracle.
This is it.
Your gold is in the fire.
True love's in the storm.
Frozen, you hate to move
But it's how you will get warm.
So many fight for you.
Ponder why it is they fight.
This world grows ever darker.
Please, come to the light.

Adam Scott Campbell