Marching Orders: Revisited

a repost from early fall 2015.


Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

From Dulce et Decorum Est, by Wilfred Owen


Rush, push.
Next mission.
Keep moving.
Don’t stop:
to feel,
to taste,
to embrace,
this moment,
this experience,
this love.

Keep moving!
Into the:
next experience,
next moment,
next objective.

Love is
just beyond:
my reach,
this moment,
that ridge –
out yonder.

Keep moving!
Keep reaching!
Keep hoping…
Keep praying.

Forward, MARCH!
Left, Right.
Left, Right.
Left (behind).

Behind me,
parts left.
Eyeballs FORWARD!
Forward, MARCH!

Keep moving!
Ignore pain.
Ignore feelings.
Ignore rain.
Ignore all
keep going.

March, soldier!
March onward….
Never quit,
or you just might feel what you’re running from.

Keep moving!
Lest your demons catch up with you,
and you see how much of a piece of shit you really are.

So you double your pace,
out of cadence.
out of order.
out of fear.

When will it ever stop?

Photo Courtesy of hyena reality @

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