LANDSCAPE
by John T. Baker
My landscape's littered now 
     with fallen friends,
Lost heroes who, 
     alas, will fight no more,
Comrades in arms 
     with whom I shared the bliss
Of battle and 
     the torment of despair.

Their battered shields, 
     their blunted swords, lie strewn
About the field 
     where long we valiantly
Proclaimed our cause 
     and grappled with the foe,
Outnumbered ever 
     but unmatched in will.

I hear again the cries 
     from lips now mute,
I smell the smoke, 
     retaste the bitter bite
Of bleeding wounds, 
     the stinging salt of tears,
I feel their grasp, 
     I see them singly die.

The conflict rages on, 
     our ranks are thin;
I can but soldier on, 
     some day to win.