By Christian M. Benedetto Jr.
We painted our faces
We cut off our hair
We lived like a noble nomad tribe
We hunted in packs
We took care of each other
We traveled light
We ate what we could
We called each other Brother
We prayed each day for a new foe
We drilled and we trained
We had our own special war dance
We “yelped” and we “yelled” our war cry
Each day we asked for a battle
Each night we lay sleeping, itching to fight
Each meal was a feast
Each formation a family reunion
My whole life is a mess – except for the success and excess
Thanks to those thousand plus days
I think I may have shattered the rest of my years
Why, oh why did I every yearn to make a war cry
We killed and we maimed
We did this for thirty dollars a day
We took life from the lucky
We left the unlucky to live
Each night I wonder and shake
Fears – I had none. Tears – I shed less
A grown man near forty
Today I have a new war cry