It's Always a Matter of Protecting

I’ve seen the iron spines

of your knuckles

and the thumbtacks

of your skin

to know it’s not empty

behind your steely fortress.

We keep the weary shields

and rusting armor

in position to protect,

but war stretches

to rip out our throats

and drain our stomachs,

And, I must say, the sorrowful truth 

behind the carnage and

resulting famine of spirit

is the preciousness of what 

you fought to find yet,

was never lost.

You see, all these weapons

you’ve melted into your palms

are not intended to destroy,

I know this, my dear,

it’s just that you didn’t know

any other way to safety.

With my most piercing sincerity,

I want you to know,

the white flag is an unending offer,

and with piercing honesty I will say,

I’ve watched you wear out

all other options

along with yourself, soldier.