The Power Of One Poem by Mitchell Hood

The soldier stood alone, soaked in guilty men’s blood
The stench of murder filled the air, and its rancor stained the mud
His pride kept him tall, yet his shoulders hunched with malice
Passion burned within his eyes, though his heart had long grown callous
He screamed a silent battle cry, his armor cleft and severed
He was dead but still alive, his soul left undelivered
The enemy battered down the gates, closing in in numbers
The soldier dropped his shield as the footsteps rolled like thunder
Those who approached in hundreds would see the power of one
“And as these men have done to me, so shall they be undone.”
The soldier muttered one short prayer, then raised his sword with poise
A chilling silence filled the air, for malevolence knows no noise
One by one they came at him, and one by one they fell
He was determined not to go alone on his pilgrimage to hell
Swing for swing he kept the pace, cleaving flesh from bone
But though he tried, he could not face an army on his own
All at once an arrow flew through the bloody crimson mist
It pierced his heart, and he hit the ground, sword clenched in his fist
His death was inevitable but he went out with a fight
From then no army would belittle a single soldier’s might