Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)

The way of all flesh

As I sat on a bunker after the ARVN Fire Base,
we were over-seeing, had been overrun by the enemy.
I had ample time to contemplate about death, and consequently
what it meant to me...to anyone that had seen the fierce anxiety,
terror I felt witihin, and where the fingers of hell had left me.

I remember how close I came to being one of the corpses,
scattered around the barbed-wire fences, broken and torn.
It in itself was a revulsion to my mind...I'd never been born
to observe this barbarity so inhuman, the thought of thorns,
and how they ripped, stabbed, and some totally destroyed.

This is how I saw the way of all flesh at eighteen.
Now I have had my doctor tell me, that if I didn't stop
living the life I have led for sixty-five years, I would drop
dead from a coronary...the facts are there as I flop
in my chair, remembering all those old thoughts.

I desire to go on living, but I have lived an action filled life,
Not many others have accomplished life as I have,
it's been beautiful, it's been terrifying, it's been tears in the eyes.
Now I face the ultimate unknown, does my faith arise to comply?
Although, others have different lives...they've different journeys.

My People believe in crossing over the River to be with ancestors,
the Christians believe we'll will go and wait for the coming of Christ.
Does it matter where we will go? I don't know but it must be nice
to have no more pain, anquish, and terror...what a thoughtful Light.
I have focused my llife on love, whether it was there or wherever.

Once I was told if I didn't have love within I'd never enter the door...
love hasn't always been in my heart, but I've always wanted it to be.
Made many mistakes along the way, but I've always prayed with trees,
and loved all the people, even those whomsoever disliked me.
Am I good enough to walk through the door, or will I live some more?

Am I afraid of death? Not so...no one gets out of this world alive,
no matter how hard we try...but our Spirits will returen to the Creator.
The Spirit remains alive even when the body, the tent, withers,
going back to Creation from whence it came...nothing lasts forever,
only fire, wind, rain, rock, Mother Earth, and the Universe.

Whether all of this is the truth, only the Sacred Great Spirit knows.
I am not all knowing, all I actually know is who I am, and love
is the only answer, and it's been in my heart as a glove,
for all of my life, even now in solitary loneliness: a single flying dove.
I will change and continue to walk this trail of life, my faith before me.

Font size:

Submitted on August 22, 2014

2:28 min read

Lucian Tower Claim this poet

I began writing Lyrics, short stories, and poetry some 43-years-ago. When I was in high school, during the 60s, I met the great Robert Frost. He spoke to me about my real elementary attempts at writing and poetry. He took some time with me, after assembly hall and told me to not stop writing. Now, that I have been around the world as a USMarine, and have lived through 2-years of the Vietnam War, I still am writing. Now at 63-years-old, I am enjoying being on Poetry.com with you all. I was born 12/21/1948, in Worcester, MA. There I began trying to write lyrics at 5-years-old, on my Grandmother's piano -- this has been a life-time ambition/Hobby for me. I live now in Gallatin, TN, and I am disabled/retired from the vietnam war.This is how I move around and, hopefully, meet others of like mind/spirit. I am mostly American Indian and 4th Generation Irish in the USA. My poetry are moments, which I've seen, and lived during my life. I believe allpoetry are photos, or glimpses into moments of life. Styles have changed over the years, and it is in reading/listening to others' poems that give poets ideas and imaginations to build their own style. This is who I am, as a man, who simply loves the written arts/preforming arts. Keep on writing!Lucian Tower. more…

All Lucian Tower poems | Lucian Tower Books

FAVORITE (0 fans)

Discuss this Lucian Tower poem with the community:



    Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

    Select another language:

    • - Select -
    • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
    • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
    • Español (Spanish)
    • Esperanto (Esperanto)
    • 日本語 (Japanese)
    • Português (Portuguese)
    • Deutsch (German)
    • العربية (Arabic)
    • Français (French)
    • Русский (Russian)
    • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
    • 한국어 (Korean)
    • עברית (Hebrew)
    • Gaeilge (Irish)
    • Українська (Ukrainian)
    • اردو (Urdu)
    • Magyar (Hungarian)
    • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
    • Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Italiano (Italian)
    • தமிழ் (Tamil)
    • Türkçe (Turkish)
    • తెలుగు (Telugu)
    • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
    • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
    • Čeština (Czech)
    • Polski (Polish)
    • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Românește (Romanian)
    • Nederlands (Dutch)
    • Ελληνικά (Greek)
    • Latinum (Latin)
    • Svenska (Swedish)
    • Dansk (Danish)
    • Suomi (Finnish)
    • فارسی (Persian)
    • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
    • հայերեն (Armenian)
    • Norsk (Norwegian)
    • English (English)


    Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:


    "The way of all flesh" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 24 Oct. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/88265/the-way-of-all-flesh>.

    Become a member!

    Join our community of poets and poetry lovers to share your work and offer feedback and encouragement to writers all over the world!

    Browse Poetry.com


    Are you a poetry master?

    "He was like a rainy Tuesday" is an example of ________.
    • A. metaphor
    • B. analogy
    • C. simile
    • D. idiom

    Our favorite collection of

    Famous Poets