You, Drifting Gods of War

By Daniel W. Ross

Warriors true, chase eastward the rising of the sun,
Advancing into distant lands reverberating of war;
Counter-clockwise from the land of the American Gods,
Soaring ever faster east toward glory and bloodshed;
They discover a series of perpetual sunrises, littered with hope,
But no true first, nor true last, falling of night.

The valorous Atlantic sparkles as day turns occidental Night;
Encroaching upon Africa’s Sahara shores of sand and sun,
Hesperian warriors seek Tiurakh’s wealthy embrace of hope,
Nevertheless, kissing a piece of iron in the name of war;
Ogun’s faithful dog dances in Palm-fronds licked by bloodshed,
While he continues to make rum from the conflict of the Gods.

Hence, the blood-drunk few continue in search of other Gods,
Finding a land forged by Tyr and Perun basked by night,
Where golden wheat grows sick from bloodshed,
And fertile oaks bend to violent storms under the sun;
They find sweet passions, consumed by the Garmr of war,
And sacrifice to Fenrir their last hand of hope.

Yet, the axis turns forth, seeking oriental hope,
Arriving where empires created a graveyard of sundry Gods;
Lands of Giwish, slaughtered with such efficiency in war,
As hornless oxen bellowed, his rainbow sling accented the night;  
And Mon’s glacial footsteps mediated Earth and heavenly sun 
To defend mankind from giants and demonly bloodshed.

Then wrought Verethragna, the giver of victory, more bloodshed,
Only to yield in time to Ares’ sheer brutality and absent hope;
This land of conquest cooked savagery under a waning sun,
Further witnessing Allah, Daichi Tengri, and Kartikeya among the Gods;
Even Waheguru, genderless and eternal, cursed the waxing night,
Well before sunrise destroyed descendants of Mars Belatucadnos in war.

Inexorably, the dead continue to see the rise of war;
As sure as tidal force, perpetual daybreaks shine anew on past bloodshed,
Serving daily reminders for slain warriors running from the night;
They re-cross the ‘Peaceful’ Ocean to maybe restore hope;
Understanding that no true first, nor true last light befell the Gods
That brought havoc and travesty to each journey under the sun.

Thus, war everlasting hunts the ambivalent sun,
Just as bloodshed shadows the work of savage Gods,
Who begrudge the starry night firmament radiating with hope. 

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Dr. Daniel W. Ross grew up in Baltimore, Maryland. He is an active-duty U.S. Army Special Forces soldier (Green Beret). He finds inspiration from his travels across the globe and has visited or worked in many ambiguous, high-stress, and complex environments in over 40 countries. His poetry has been published in As You Were: The Military Review. He currently lives in North Carolina with his wife and daughters.