Warrior: Last Words

I was a warrior.
I dressed in the armor of battle,
I took up the weapons of war,
And I journeyed to lands where

Freedom was shackled by Tyranny.
Lands in every part of this world,
Since the beginning of time. I fought 
Because of the beliefs in my heart:

That there is a God,
And there is a Good Cause.
That all people have a right
To live and think without fear.

That my family should not suffer as others do,
And that others should enjoy the same peace as my family.
Leaders of countries have always had their own
Agendas, but that never mattered to me,

Because my beliefs were good and just.
And because of those beliefs my life was taken
By a small, ridiculous thing like a stone, or an
Arrowhead, or a bullet.

A bullet: no more than an inch long and weighing
Perhaps a few ounces, but lethal enough when it
Pierced my armor and found that vulnerable spot
In my sacrificial body.

And if my corpse was returned home and placed in
Sacred ground, or left to rot on the battlefield, my
Family mourned none-the-less. Their tears will
Moisten the earth, and flowers will grow.

When my soul is placed in another able body,
I will don my armor, take up my weapons,
And I will fight again.

And I will die again.