The Weary Solider Poem by Jim Milks

Upon the ancient battlefield the weary soldier stands
bowed of head and beaten of frame.
He stands a vigil to guard what remains
His weary eyes, his timeworn face, his spirit is broken
his uniform a disgrace. Yet still he stands and never falters
this is his fate he dare not alter.
He guards the dead, protects the fallen,
his comrades are gone they are not forgotten
alone he stands and this he dreads
to me he turns and wearily is said
'tell me what you see when you look at me'
a comrade, a brother this is what I see
a comrade, a brother I shall stand with thee
I will stand for there is no other.
together we stand to lean on each other
together we stand protecting one another
Brothers in arms, we watch over the field
the battle is over, but we shall not yield.
too much has been lost, too much forgotten
we stand upon this place of honor
where the plants are nourished by blood
'oh the horror'
I stand with the weary soldier all through this night
though he is long gone I remember his plight.
he is me I am he,10,000 men passed,10,000 again
Hi memory touches me like no other,
the weary soldier he is my brother.
Tears fall from my eyes, they drip from my cheek
my body grows tired, my resolve grows weak
Do not cry for me, my brother, I am not here
I did not die, I live again in another
Freedom my cause, my battle cry.

4/6/2007