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
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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