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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