The Only War That Mattered, Lost

Giants vs man

This is what war feels like—
Not a conflict of nations or political agendas
Waged in faraway deserts neglected,
With anonymous bombs falling overhead;
I am talking about the battle for a soul,
The desperate struggle to offer salvation.
After all this time, I still cannot prevaricate
And pretend I entered this war zone armed;
In fact, I was defenseless,
Helpless as a baby out of the womb,
And unprepared for the cost of bloodshed.
I scrambled when you unleashed your magic,
Reached out for any weapon I could find
To combat your dark god:
He you swear reverence to despite your repulsion.
I stood trembling before the monolith,
Wondering how I might ever conquer,
Ever slay such a beast,
But as I searched your eyes,
Beautiful even in their insipidity,
I realized you didn’t want him overthrown.
You prostituted your soul over and over again
For the mysticism he proffered,
Carving away a sliver of yourself with each transaction;
You are now a husk,
Depraved and possessed by this wickedness.
The malevolent deity that speaks in your voice
Is not you, but some perverse infection.
Tearful, I knew I could never conquer this spirit—
Your god—
And had I arms to attack, I would have cast them off then;
And all the same, I fled the wasteland you inhabit
To safer ground, to wet your grave with my tears,
Because you’re not alive—
Not really—
And because you have died, my love,
So have I.

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