Still a boy

Still a boy

By Robert Musil

In fields of corn and soy, a boy did grow,

Where gentle winds would softly blow,

Upon a farm, his childhood grace,

In nature’s arms, he found his place.

With sun-kissed hair and eyes so bright,

He played amidst the morning light,

With laughter pure and spirits free,

A child of hope, so wild and free.

But time, it beckoned to his door,

A summons to a distant shore,

At eighteen years, he heard the call,

To war’s cruel dance, he would now fall.

A soldier’s garb replaced his toil,

As innocence gave way to soil,

The farm’s embrace turned cold and grim,

His tender heart grew hard within.

Beneath the moon, on foreign lands,

He fought with valor, made his stand,

The boy, now man, with courage stirred,

In fierce battles, his voice was heard.

A squeeze of the trigger does death deliver.

Boots now stomp in a war-torn city

His heart and presence grow evermore gritty.

Fighting for him it comes quite easy,

Taking a life can be rather pleasing

Defend the Oppressed, liberate the enslaved

Fighting for freedom but becoming depraved

Not from the guns or the bombs and the planes,

It’s watching friends dying that makes him insane.

But deep inside, a flickering flame,

A memory of whence he came,

A child’s innocence, untouched, pure,

A longing for what once was sure.

Though wars may forge a hardened shell,

Within his soul, the echoes dwell,

Of laughter shared with mother’s smile,

And gentle tales from father’s file.

Through darkest nights and stormy seas,

He yearned for simple melodies,

The lullabies of his mother’s voice,

The warmth of home, his heart’s true choice.

And in the quiet of the eve,

His dreams would whisper and retrieve,

That boy who wandered fields of gold,

Whose heart, though scarred, was not yet sold.

For deep within, he knew the truth,

That innocence could bear the proof,

That wars may ravage, tear apart,

But love still lingers in the heart.

And so he fought with strength untold,

Not just for duty, brave and bold,

But for the child he used to be,

And for the love he longed to see.

Though battles waged and years rolled by,

A glimmer of that boy did lie,

Within his soul, a precious spark,

The light of hope that conquers dark.

For in his heart, he understood,

That war, though fierce, could but never should,

Erase the fact he's someone’s child,

A product of love, fierce and wild.

So let us honor those who’ve fought,

Whose innocence, by war, was sought,

For deep inside, they still retain,

The child they were, unmarked by pain.