The Field of Freedom (a Poem)

The wind is tainted with freedom
The conditions are not good
For the gentle blessings of my God
Are we doing all we should?

The face of God He sees you
He’s calling out your name
He wants a conversation
He sleeps into your dreams

He understands the underdog
And raises up the meek
But it doesn’t solve your problems
And He never really speaks

Candlelight and daffodils
In a soft warm wind you kneel
But that’s just in a dream; your real life’s
On a real battlefield

The slate it never gets wiped clean
There’s always gonna be
The dirty wind of war and strife
The wind of freedom for you and me

So is this my God’s face and hands?
He’s not so gentle now
The field is fresh with death; everyone’s
Wondering why and how

This is what our freedom costs
There shouldn’t be a doubt
The voice of God’s in the same wind
That blew your candle out

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