The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Soldier, Come Home

You've stood on the front
of trauma's dark hour
heart beating brave
to weather the brunt.

Mind focused, holding at bay
what's felt and needed
instinctively attending to
senseless death's decay.

Hands push to protect
life oft un-innocent
defending un-appreciated
even those who reject.

Eyes hardened to see 
past filth spilled out
helpless flailings
held down to set them free.

To hearts beating faint
applying your last strength
no thought of the cost
come, my bone-wearied saint.

To comrade's bitter groans
tempering the frustrated hour
silent example serving 
come, my faithful soldier.

Come Home
You've served your time
Defended with your life
laid down so many years.

The land you've fought for
lies waiting for you
Your dreams tilled deep
in the earth waiting...

Freedom is your reward.
Retire to the time you've won,
earned, stored up and 
left wanting for tomorrow.

Come Home to me
Warm bed for tired bones
warm brew for a new morning
Sit back and rest a while.

Let the dim trauma fade
You've won your peace.
The fighting is over
Let sore scars heal.

Come Home to my
-admiration of your self-gift
-love of a man so strong
-arms of devotion to You.

Soldier, Come Home
your dreams await
Your veteran heart is free 
to live in peace.
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©2007 Mark Daniel Milbocker  All rights reserved.