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THE FALL OF THE SOLDIER by Sophie Gregoire

This is the story of a soldier, that decided to travel the world to see if somewhere would feel like home…

This is a story of a soldier girl who left her homeland to see who and where, her own tribe would be. This is a story of a warrioress that dreams, believes and trusts, and sometimes falls.


The Fall Of The Soldier
by Sophie Gregoire

Lovely wanderer,
How far you’ve travelled.

Do you recall
What life was, before the leap?

I know,
It didn’t feel true, it wasn’t you.
So your soul saying no,
You were burning
I remember.

The doors.
How inspiring it seemed.
How many,
Golden and green hopes
Were they hiding?
The bougainvillea trees.

Walk, Soldier.
You heart was whispering, set out.
Love, peace, gold even
Perhaps, you’ll find.

The gold of the soul
The peace of the heart.

So you braved
Every danger,
Sweet revolutionnary.
Your weapons were flowers,
Dances and streamers.
You braved the world
By way of poetry,
Your pastels.

No,
As long as life couldn’t
Play your heart’s song.
No, you had to walk a little further
To open doors,
Win other battles.

Become Lion,
King of the hearts
Thinker of words
Paintbrushes’ player.

What could be,
Behind the strolls?
What could we find,
On the other side of a wheat field.

No, for sure
You thought.
The world must be breathing,
That same sweet air of yours,
Somewhere.
Embrace,
That same ardor
Gold, you were seeking.

How beautiful it is to dream,
The bougainvillea trees.
To dream of beauty,
Of another world
But you already knew our world,
Yet, see.

Of course,
You’ve colored souls
At the whim of your wanderer’s walks.

Such a lovely wanderer,
A soldier of flowers!
You saw temples, lavenders,
Narcissus and cherry trees.
The sweet memories,
Smells of linden,
Have carried your feet.

How beautiful it is to believe,
The conquest, the New world,
We would be 100, we would be 1000!
There would be painters in the streets
We would water sun flowers,

And he would be smiling
Even,
Who knows.

In this world,
We would live simply
We would be 1000, even a million!
Perhaps.

The green walks were magnificient,
At that time when you didn’t know,
What was behind the doors
After the leaps.
Such promising strides, so it seemed.

How brave it was Soldier, to dream.
How much your eyes were shining
Even the sun,
Was hiding!

Couldn’t you see?
That our world is lies
That people are pretending
Sleeping on that bed,
That you’re fighting alone,
Opening doors, going off to crusades
But no one desires, to follow.

How sweet, tender and smooth
Was it, to dream.
That’s ok,
Soldier.

As long as you’re alive,
Warrior of the hearts
Even if you fought for a world,
That couldn’t see.

And who knows?
Maybe, even
You’ll find, once again,
Your green walks
That cheerful hope of your heart?

Clock is ticking,
The cycle of seasons.

It’s already late,
Trenches.

Your insouciance,
Turned into balloon
It’s fluttering in the wind.
No, no need to jump
Don’t play with ribbons, it went away.

Someone is hearing you
Perhaps, you’ve travelled so much.

How beautiful were those skies
Of yours.
So many sunsets, have you painted.

So many hearts have you heaten up,
Your weapons, your words,
How beautiful was your Asia
At that fecund time of the green walks.

That’s ok, Soldier.
But the radiance of your eyes
Can you feel it?
It’s flickering.

Your fire is dying.
Lay down, your weapons
Your smiles, your paintbrushes.
Every dance,
Knows a curtain of its own.

See, that candle
Its pale glimmer, it’s sinking.
Lay down your letters, your poems,
Your light
Behind the stones, the churches.

See, Soldier
You’re dying
Leaving, in arabesques
You’re bowing out, ballet-dancing.

You’re flitting around
Once again, always cause you never could
The angles, the squares.

How beautiful it was to dream,
Of the green strolls.
How grand it is,
Almost sacred
To pass away, that way
At the back of a grey church.

Here comes winter.

How brilliant were your songs
So much sun,
Soldier!
Your ardor, how old were you?

You’ve traveled so much,
Entertaining wandering thinker.

Lay off your flowers, your orchids
Your smile, your pens
Up in the air
Don’t jump! It’s winter
They have flown away.

Here you stand, tonight,
At the back of that country church,
Here is your linden.
Get drunk on it, quicken your pace, breathe!
The formerly smells, your green strolls.

Your light is flickering, Soldier.

Today,
You’re 1000 years old.

Even the grey country
Yet,
Has wiped out your name.


Sophie Gregoire is often found contemplating an idea or how to explain a new concept, with a notebook and pencil in hand. She is an independent soul who loves to ponder over our world and humankind. She loves writing to transform her endless thoughts into some kind of reality and traveling both faraway and deep within her heart and mind. Sophie savors coffee, encounters, yoga and meditation, with her cat as her greatest muse. Connect with Sophie on Facebook or more about Sophie here. 






~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 

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