One tin soldier.

One Tin soldier..

I have become a vulgar man. Once I had a young heart. Love didn’t darken my heart, love didn’t darken my mind. Life did.

He told the mirror in the tavern. I remember everything. I remember the beautiful faces of the kind women who tried to love me. I remember doing the Texas two-step. Feeling so damn happy.

Now in my dreams. I see the starvation in Africa, I remember finding the bodies of women and children in Bosnia. I remembering a river filled with bodies flowing and I couldn’t do a damn thing. I remember the mass graves in Africa filled with poor people forgotten. Us soldiers, we prayed for them. We knew. This wasn’t enough.

I remember the eyes of the people in the way of war, I remember the faces of the people who starved to death. I asked often. Where was God? I have fought with god for many years and he never answered. I question myself often. Was I just another Tin Soldier? I asked myself. Did I do enough? Or was I just a observer of shit, hate and blood.

Once I sought love and now I seek to forget. Become clean again. I followed my father to wars and I learn his sadness, I understand the heavy sadness in his face.

Now I burn sage and I pray for peace. They murdered 146 Russians at a concert in Russia. I searched out their faces and names. I prayed they found a better place. What men can do? Today damn wars, old hate had killed the kindness and hope in my world.

Mass murder in Palestine, the Ukraine/Russia war and the murder of over 1200 people murdered at a concert in Israel. The Tin soldier worry for his world. His grandchildren are sixteen now and the wars are alive and well.

The old man went to lake St. Clair and he asked the St. Clair de pobre. Please tell God. We had enough war, we had enough starvation and we had enough murder. Please heal my world.

Coyote