Spiritus Vitae

Short in stature,

long in fight,

the zealot stood his ground

 

The odds unfavored,

no end in sight,

 victory still unfound

 

The daylight haunting,

the body count,

the field a sea of blood

 

A bugle blowing

for one last charge,

advancing through the mud

 

With force depleted

but spirit whole,

his voice heard far and wide…

 

“Into the jaws

of certain death

—for glory now we ride”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2020)

 

 

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