Embattled We

9781545603451

Introduction

Dear Reader,

Embattled We: A Poet’s War is a book of more than one hundred poetic works. Each work was created as I delved deep, and then deeper, in search of solid ground from which to fight intense psychological, spiritual, and physical pain. Several themes under the main purpose of fighting for survival need mentioning: my ongoing battle with depression, low self-esteem, and lack of desire for life; my choice to persevere when so often I do not want to persevere; the presence of angels in my life, who have been with me from the beginning, help heal me, and carry me when I cannot feel them and often forget that I’m unable to walk on my own; the certain understanding that each person has worth and beauty greater than the earth on which he or she stands; and my belief in a God who loves me more than I know how to give full voice to.

Sometimes survival means creating something out of the pain. At other times, it means reaching out to others, who each, I’ve learned, are hurting too. This work is both a reaching out and a creating. I hope that you, Reader, benefit in some way from the words contained herein. May we both learn someday the full joy of becoming whole. Thank you for taking a chance on this work.

—Adam Scott Campbell

Courage

Now I Leap

I have leaped the canyon’s rift

Only once before.

Hundreds of feet below

Awaits the vault of earth’s floor.

Do I take the leap?

Should I ignore my inner war?

You are strong, she whispers.

Every fiber of my body throbs

In anger, raging for its pain.

Does she not see the chasm widening,

Making riskier the gain?

You are strong, she murmurs

Again into my ear.

Though my fear I also hear,

I’ve crossed this chasm but once

Years, decades, ago.

All my Inner ceased to glow.

This, that empathy, I might know

For those who also fear.

You are strong, she says again.

I pause, shake my head.

For something that once

Breathed inside my heart,

Long since is dead.

Real love felt, bruised, and bled.

Purity lost for words said and not said.

Focus shattered. Pieces scattered

Across an ocean floor’s bed.

Picking them up: tiny morsels fed

To a heart I once thought dead.

A heart changing slow from gray to red:

But what I’ve lost still is fled.

Behind and before me, the rabble wait

For my fall, spewing hate and anger.

"How dare you give an effort?

How dare you try?

Do you wish to hurt?

How many tears you’ve cried!

When will enough be enough?

Why do you still care?

Does it not hurt when someone stops

Not to help, but to stare?

How will you jump this chasm?

You are not what you were . . ."

That I can’t win . . .

That I’ll cave in . . .

That I’ve too much sin . . .

My enemies infer.

Again from the edge I turn away

Wishing I’d never seen the light,

Wishing this was not my fight.

I’d never quit before.

I’d not yet lost the war.

But what is now

Was not before.

I, and my heart so ragged . . .

Can we endure?

I’ve long lost remembrance of

The feel of being pure.

My foes’ cries

Only get louder,

Hope tries to shed her light

Upon this doubter.

The words spoken before:

You are strong

Are again repeated.

Like a festering wound,

Begging healing so greatly needed.

I sense within myself

The touch that Hope has seeded

In an inner garden that Hope, herself,

Has weeded.

Doing all she can to help me,

Hope has enabled me to see

All that I can and will be.

I’ve not endured

A decades-deep hell

Only to relinquish this chance

To do and be well.

I am no voided shell.

I want my tale someone to tell.

I turn back. I face my fate,

Whatever it may be.

One step, then two steps.

Going faster, so fast.

All enemies I pass

On my way to fate.

Somehow Hope’s presence

Grows inside me.

My enemies have lied.

I’ve always tried.

However often triumph’s denied

I have true strength inside.

The chasm’s edge rushes toward me.

I see not the depths below.

Only my return from the past

To my destiny I now know.

Though the past is done,

My journey just begun,

My victory is already won.

Adrenaline into my veins seeps.

Two steps ahead lies chasm’s deep.

Only the good from the past I keep.

Now, I leap.

Me to My Fore

One foe,

Add two foes,

Then four foes more.

Midst all seven, my soul I fight for.

Know they not wretchedness which I store.

Till I unleash what’s behind soul’s door.

First pain

Second through seventh pain,

Through soul’s door Bared.

All seven enemies, petrified, stare.

Now these heartless humans have harried care.

We are alike.

We are now more aware.

Courage

I have,

Showing I am not void

Of weakness, or darkness, or good things destroyed.

While strength is mine, unaided, unalloyed,

Toyed not with is Friendship Deployed.

Seven.

Then six left.

Then five on their feet.

Four are now standing on coldest concrete.

Three braving battle on broken, burned street.

Two see their strength woefully obsolete.

Warrior,

One warrior,

Looks me all the way through.

Peering intently like no others dared do.

I stare back, intently, too.

Words come unbidden, and unthought:

Am I you?

Three words.

Truth spoken

Shatters all grip I thought was mine.

To unreal reality, I’ve crossed the line.

The bridging line.

A line so very fine.

I look.

I look back.

All of me sees my all.

No shadows, no veils, no lies, no wall.

In stark truth, markings from every fall.

Destiny between us makes a shrieking call.

Courage

I know well,

Courage to see truth,

Though said truth now oft is ruth-

Less, ’tis, too, often liberating, forsooth . . .

Like first-felt love pangs of an embattled youth.

I see

My great chance

To be of myself, my Inner Powerful, far more.

I sense deeply the wondrous strength stocked up in store.

My hand reaches out to the me to my fore.

The me to my fore reaches. We touch.

Me, no more.

Hands

One hand reaching,

I quickly back off.

Know I it’s not kind

Or helpful

Or soft.

Another reaches.

This time

I fight back.

With tooth and claw

I turn and attack.

Many hands reach.

Nowhere to turn.

Mayhap,

So trapped,

Defense I’ll learn.

Many hands reaching.

Tools they hold.

While I lay helpless.

Broken.

Cold.

Many hands holding,

Keeping me still,

Ignoring my wishes,

My wants,

My will.

One hand touching

Back of my head.

Memories lost.

Empty,

Instead.

Two hands holding

Tightly my own.

Touch, not a happy

Thing

I have known.

Two hands that shake

While I pull away

No good can be had

From touch,

Anyway.

Two hands reaching

Out to me still,

Begging me,

Come back. This,

Not my will.

Hands that held heaven.

Hands that lived Hell.

Hands that wrote

Word-balm,

Hands that then fell.

While all these things

Done

By such hands

Helped, harmed, and held

Other like hands . . .

Other like hands,

Numbered not few,

Helped hands

Holding heaven

Push their way through.

Two hands as one

Clasped to plead,

Wanting,

Wishing for,

Their deepest need.

Two hands pleading,

Naught to hold on.

Smothered

In darkness,

Waiting for dawn.

Many hands reaching

Out once again.

Two hands recoiling,

Broken,

Again.

Two special hands reaching

Round my spent frame,

While my own hands

Clench tight

To deep pain.

Two special hands

That know pain

Of their own,

Not letting me suffer

All on my own.

Two special hands

Saving my life,

Granting me comfort

In midst of

Dark strife.

Many kind hands

Come pair by pair,

Wishing me healing,

Wishing me

Care;

Wishing me feel

Safety once more.

Wishing me find

What life

Is good for.

Many kind hands

Holding words

I’ve said.

Many kind hands

That never have fled.

Two hands typing

The words you see,

Two hands, grateful

For all done

For me.

Two hands,

Gaining so much

For what’s lost.

Two hands, regretting not

The cost.

Two hands, that now

Know just why.

Two hands, that always,

Always,

Will try.

Battle’s Lull: A Plea

A lull in the battle, my warriors return.

We know death well. Never safe, we have learned.

Evidence of tragedy we see from our mound.

Broken souls, and bodies, ’pon yon lower ground.

Our brothers and sisters, our friendships and kin

Have given their all so that we might win.

How so very many have traveled below.

This our great sorrow. We begged them not to go.

This war has taken so many away,

When we wanted them, needed them badly, to stay.

Now arm-brothers gather into a group so tight . . .

Arm-sisters, too, with us in this fight . . .

A family of loyalty,

A kinship true.

A fierce need have all embattled we

For You.

You, who read these words,

Fighting wars of your own.

We hope with all we have

You are not yet turned to stone.

We reach to You, in hopes that you’ll share

Your reasons, your drive by which You dare.

You dare to give each moment

A further shot,

No matter that perhaps all You wish for

You have not.

The battle awaits You.

The war ever rages.

Fatality ever rises

In all further stages.

Will You lay down your lay-down,

Open up your heart’s doors

Let out the wondrous strength

We know you have in store?

Please share your battles

That we may fight them too.

Sword-bearers need sword-brothers

And sword-sisters. You need us.

We need You.

Oath

And yet I still, now I’ve had my fill,

And love and joy have gone,

Carve