The Old Warrior. {poetry}

All I ever wanted was to be seen as I am.

Like the serpent without her skin.

Like the seed that cracked its shell and grew.

Like the butterfly that flew with beautiful wings.

Will it ever be so?

I went to the Tree of Life and waited.

I didn’t know for what or whom.

I just knew that sooner or later,

love would come and grow

out of my surrender and patience,

out of resignation and tears.

I think I fell asleep, and as I woke up,

I wasn’t alone anymore under the blossoms of the tree.

The tree dropped its flowers to the ground

and I sat in them and inhaled their fragrance

and it was like a balm to my soul.

They just were,

and they just let themselves fall

with ease and beauty

in a moment of fragility and trust.

I sat with my eyes closed

and I knew that this was a portal

that opened itself to me,

but only for a short while.

Would I go through it now?

When I opened my eyes again

the world was white.

I thought that it had become winter,

but it was the Tree of Life

releasing its blossoms,

making the world white

and pure as snow.

Then I saw him.

He sat like an old warrior

leaning against the tree.

He had laid his sword on the ground

and it was covered with blood,

with the color of Life,

from all the wars he had fought,

from all the battles he had seen and survived.

Although he was rough and worn

from the years on the battlefields,

always on his guard,

he now looked so peaceful

like anyone in the Land of dreams,

liberated and with no fear.

My heart filled with love as I saw him

and I wanted to stroke the dust from his hair.

When I touched him, he smiled

and grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips

and kissed it gently,

and right then I knew that he was a part of me.

I hadn’t seen myself as a warrior

fighting and struggling with weapons in my hands,

defending the borders of my kingdom,

and with just one goal…

… to achieve peace,

and living on the truth and the hope that all battles

and wars come to an end.

This kept me going and alive.

Now I saw him for the first time,

my old soldier, resting by the tree,

covered with surrendered white blossoms,

the color of peace,

because the war was finally over.

Silent tears, as many as a river,

found its way out from our armor,

making it break and fall apart,

and I knew that I would take care of him

and wash our wounds away with them.

But I had to ask him one question,

I always ask:

Why did you go to war?

You were just a little child.

And he answered me with a voice

that had seen and felt all:


all I ever wanted was to be seen as I am…

Then we entered the portal

hand in hand…


FriedaTarnFrieda Tärn is a constant seeker of who she is, trying to understand herself and life through nature and gardening, reading, being creative in various ways, and believing that magic exists everywhere if we only allow it. You could contact Frieda on Facebook.


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