100 year war

After fighting what felt like the one hundred year war, I am at peace. The cannons are silenced my brow is sweaty and my body aching. Dust clouds the horizon but does not and cannot guise the warmth of the sunshine over the scorched earth. Battle was here. War scratched at the epidermis of this earthly body but the soul remains in tact. Though the soil be barren I lay as if there were a field of flowers and I smile because I am at peace. My legs cry out from miles of wear but still the joy courses through my veins and radiates out of my fingertips. I am alive. My hair unkempt and beard overgrown, I am not handsome but in my survival I am glorious. By virtue of my tenacity birth right of fortitude and byproduct of courage, I am divine. I allow the earth to swallow me, surrendered not to my enemy but to my Creator: I am yours. I am returned emerging from water clean and healed My God says, “You are your own.” 

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