Only the Living*

Sometimes you ought to run.
Sometimes you turn and fight.
Sometimes it’ll hurt like hell.
Sometimes it’ll surely bite.

Sometimes you find strength
Other times, you’re just tired.
You make choices in a moment
With knowledge you acquired.

There’s mystery in every fight.
That upon which it depends
Is that the fire remaining in you
Will decide where this battle ends.

Be determined to win this round
Though you know this bout will hurt.
You'll wrestle with the aching wound
As you brawl in the sand and dirt.

Only the living struggle.
Only the living bleed.
Only the living may know
That only the living succeed.


*I discovered this poem in a file I hadn't seen since 2008. It reflects a struggle I was in at the time. I suppose all of us have had times when we had to roll up our sleeves, ball up our fists, and either figuratively, or literally waded into the fray, come hell or high water. The victory was mine, that time. I "marked it on my hull" as a combat star. But the war continues. Be strong...and be careful out there.