Thurman P. Woodfork


Thurman P. Woodfork: CallousesThe stench of old battles fills his nose
As memories came alive again;
He feels the fear and hears the sounds,
As he hunkers against the monsoon rain.

He thought he’d get used to the fear,
The loss of friends, the weariness, and such;
He thought that, after awhile,
All those things wouldn’t matter so much.

He’d learn, soon enough, to ignore the pain
As he matured and grew into a man;
His mind would stiffen and grow a shield
Like toughened skin on work-hardened hands.

He sits here now, lost deep in thought,
His vision turned inward to distant days,
And he feels his soul shiver just a bit
As another callous slips away.