It takes time, they say
For wounds to heal
But he never bled
Yet he could feel

That the wounds were there
That he was struck
Not by enemy fire
But in his head the muck

Of unfulfilled dreams
Of unanswered questions
Of blurry visions
Which robs him of senses

The soldier was wounded
The soldier impaired
He wondered if anywhere
There was someone who cared

To say the Spirit was on Him
To proclaim good news
To bind up the brokenhearted
To set free those accused

In his heart he met Him
And submitted its great battle
Never to take it up again
Never again to prattle

About a life lost in the past
About things outside his influence
Because new are this morning’s mercies
Advancing life’s continuance

[Isaiah 61:1, Lamentations 3:23]