We stand forsaken on the battlefield
Facing life on our own
We stare down the enemy
Not knowing what to do
No warning was given of the depth of plunge that was to be take
We’ve been pushed into this war, one we never asked to be part of
Fight or flight?
Fight, and you will be torn down
Fly, and you will fall
How can we be expected to march on when we have so much pulling us down
When we feel like we’re fighting an uphill battle that ends with a cliff
Where the only way is to hit rock bottom
When what we see the world through holds the marks of so much brokenness
The shards of glass we look through portrays the world with such a light that it turns the darkness from being seen to being felt
When the light is taken away, all you have left is fear
The strength of a front that shows a front of strength, crumbles with the silence of solitude
The roaring in your ears of the screams of the stillness overpower your being
The enemy is no longer the darkness lurking around the corners of the halls of this life, but has become yourself, and the darkness of the thoughts from within
When we’re expected to fight and conquer that which is in ourselves
Is defeating your thoughts the same as defeating yourself?
Or is the definition of new life and light begin with a death to oneself?
Can we, on our own, vanquish this monster?
With our own power and with our own strength?
We convince ourselves we’re alone in this pain, that we’re the only ones who know this suffering
How can we win?
When the very weapons that would serve us best look so much like enemies
Is it the blindness or the pride that hinders us most from seeing the help knocking at the door
We cling to our struggles like something that’s precious, yet loathe it for its destruction
The last thing we think of is helping each other in our agony
When the people who know best are the people we’ve been fighting
The glass to see each other is so dark and dirty and so much weaker than the mirror in front of us
Comments about this poem (Battlefield by Rebecca G. Ericson )
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