His Walk

written for a highschool friend who lost his life fighting in Iraq

Young, he walked the line to Pomp and Circumstance
    into the smokey future.
Opportunity knocked at his door, the wood cracked
    Georgia called him south, the peach bruised
But his heart led him elsewhere
Into a land raped by war, torn by anger and hate

Innocence, his eyes saw only twenty years
    of love, of hope, of family, of friends, of God.
I called him into a life of loneliness, of emptiness
Aged, he walked the front line with
    the few, the proud
      for me.

Vitality, his strength began mightily
    but the smoke weakened his hold.
He wanted to go home. His legs couldn't move.
    My life, my future, my freedom
    formed chains around his ankles
Three days.
He is home, he walks the silver-lined skies
    Back into the love, the hope, the family, the friends, God.
My chains fall from his ankles, he's free.