THE LAST BATTLEFIELD

He rides alone.

His tribe is many, but he rides alone.

Mounted on a wearied steed

And heavily weaponed,

He’s dressed full-armored for the fight.

Alone, with no enemy before him,

He knows the greatest fear.

Armed beyond the possibility of defeat,

His jaw tenses, his heart pounds in his chest.

Alone and seeming safe,

He reins still his dying beast

In the desert peace

As his eyes search unbelieving

The empty horizon.

There, beyond the world’s end,

Just beyond his human vision,

There must wait the final enemy

On the last dreadful field of battle.

#BattlefieldPoems #Anti-ArmanentProliferation #Anti-WarPoem