at night, when one’s soul at rest
does the troubled, distressed
find mars’ brutal skirmishes upon
wide plains, steeped canyons
maybe a soldier be, broken, bloodied
falling upon the ramparts, jolting awake
in sweat bathed, heart racing
does the principled, kind, patient
find fields sunny, breezes fresh
old friends, lovers, waiting with a hug
kiss on the cheek, words yet unsaid
followed by wingless flight’s liberty
till sol’s, far reaching luminous rays
waken, unhurried, untroubled
© 2012 by DC Lessoway
