When the Dust Settles

When the dust settles and the battle is won,

What of the warrior, when the war is done?

When the air is on fire and the threat is near,

We call for the warrior to save what is dear.

His hands are dirty, blood stained from the task,

And he never asks why, being thankful we asked.

Deep down inside where the demons remain,

He lives for his duty, and he accepts the pain.

His skill is unique. He’ll prevail if unbridled,

Knowing in his heart success means he’ll be idled.

He knows when it’s over he’ll be shunned for his acumen,

By the very protected who accuse him of sin.

His God made him able, his calling is just,

And he bears our burdens – we can’t so he must.

So when the dust settles and the battle is won,

What of the warrior, when the war is done?