Trapped in a world not of our making,
Glimpses of the future, our hearts sadly aching.
What happened to freedom? Where did our country go?
Where did these tyrants come from? Whom to liberty they say no?
I have hopes and my children their dreams.
My wife wants to sail in the brisk ocean breeze.
I want to share joy, fancy the world’s wonder.
I love to write poetry in storms of roaring thunder.
Our freedom is slipping, being ripped away.
No not tomorrow, it is happening now, it is happening today.
Quiet soul shudders, my eye sheds a tear.
The day that would never come, drawing dangerously near.
This life is mine by virtue of God, and freedom is my right. It is not I who is picking, this senseless needless fight.
For the tyrant is here and we know what is to come.
For this life we hold dear, we can never turn and run.
The Warrior’s Poet
Posted with permission from David Risselada
