Micah Park Biffle

We Have Forgotten Our Warriors  No longer do we praise the warrior like that in the days of the knight. No longer do we sit by our bedside and pray for the warrior as he dawns his armor for war. No longer do we weep in the destruction of man and the blood that spills upon sands.  Too many preach of the warrior as if their existence is futile in the eyes of change. That bringing weapon against evil is no way to live. But they do not see the tyranny of evil, the cumbersome loses and poison they bring.  Too many have not felt the heat of war, the anger of evil.  Too many have not seen the vision of hell upon earth. The screaming, the dying, the forgotten. The innocent spent as mere pawns to keep a regime thriving like jungles beneath rain.  Too many have not seen the tears of families, wives, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, upon the death their warrior.  Few have felt the burden of the constant eye to stay alive. To wonder if th...

What is left of a warrior after war, when all the the dust has settled and the bodies have been collected? A desolate landscape awaits most. Some find nothing beyond the blade, beyond the screams of battle. Some are torn between now and then, like the tortures of lost love. Falling ill to shadows and the coldness of the mind. Fort Warden, WA Shallow motions of empty thought carry along side many. Searching for meaning beyond the whims of instinct. Beyond the ideal skill of a predator. Too many become lost with no hope but the kiss of death. Whispering to the hateful wishes of demons. As they lie with terrible eyes, leading the lost to the end of a rope or the piercing of flesh. There is no safe passage for a warrior after war. Hell they have crossed and hell they must traverse. Numbness masks their souls as they find their way. Will they survive is all left to the warrior. And survival is what they know, but many know not the horrors that await them alone.  Many do not lo...