Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Fire and Fight

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I was reading some Rollins tonight and I came across this poem from the fantastic book One From None and it immediately made me think of Clark. When he came over the other night, he sat on my couch and we talked about his's only a matter of time...we both know that. Honestly, I want him to go back. I know that at first glance that statement seems like a horrible thing to say; especially about someone you love. But I want him to go back because I love him. I know that it's what he needs.

All my war stories are old
They hang like old clothes in the closet
No one wants to hear old war stories
It's all I have right now
My mouth flops dry in the air
I am in this room pacing the floors
Sun up sun down grinding my teeth
Jumping at shadows waiting
I don't want to think about that old war anymore
It's driving me up the wall with bad insanity
I need a new war
High on war

I knew the first day Clark was with me in Washington that he would go back. He swore up and down that day that no matter what, he would never let them deploy him again because it would mean leaving me. But I knew, deep down, as I sat in his lap on the floor of our hotel room that he would go back. Not only would he go back, it would be his choice. He wouldn't turn down any mission they gave him; in fact he would volunteer. I saw it in his eyes...felt it in his soul.

I didn't know when it would happen, but I knew that it would. Sometimes I think I know him entirely too well. We're a lot alike, he and I. When we feel that we have a purpose, we stop at nothing to accomplish it. Come hell or high water or both, that mission will be completed. His isn't finished yet, not by a long shot. We both have quite a ways to go but I have faith that we'll reach the end intact.

I feel the need in him to go back getting stronger all the time. It's painful, but I wouldn't trade it because it's who he is. When the time comes, he'll go. All the promises, hopes and dreams will be tossed aside in favor of duty. I've always known that about him.

For him, coming home was like a boxer who is forced out of the ring before the match is over. For the boxer, one of two things will happen. He will either lose the fire in his eyes and soul and become a shell of a man. Or, he will find a way (the means will be immaterial) to get back into the ring. If he makes it into the ring,he will fight and fight until it's completed. Only then will he emerge a whole man capable of maintaining the fire and light in his soul.