“The Desert Within”

By moonless night, I wander still—
A soul unmoored, a mind grown ill,
For echoes chase my every breath,
Of sand, and smoke, and whispered death.

In that pale land where shadows bled,
I struck the living, mourned the dead,
And in mine eyes—another’s face,
Once enemy—now clothed in grace.

They said it just, they called it right,
To storm the dark with Heaven’s light;
Yet Heaven wept—its silence deep,
Where angels dared not dream nor sleep.

I bore the flag, I bore the sin,
But found no peace to dwell within;
For every shot, though duty’s art,
Tore not the flesh—but split my heart.

Can God forgive what I became?
A vessel baptized not in flame,
But in the blood of humankind—
And faith I lost, I cannot find.

O Father, hear this soldier’s cry,
Who knelt to serve, yet learned to die;
Redeem this soul from war’s command,
And teach me peace in thine own hand.

         Timothy F Terrell 12/24/2025

“The Light Beneath the Falling Snow”

Amid the mirth of winter’s breath, where candles soft bestow,
Their trembling light on laughing hearts and drifting mists of snow—
There whispers low a solemn shade, unseen by festal sight,
That bids the reveler pause and speak a name into the night.

For peace, though bright, is bought with pain no carol dares to tell,
And freedom’s flame, so warm to us, was kindled deep in Hell.
Where Warriors fell, their valor sown in crimson, silent lands,
Their memories woven, ghostlike threads, through time’s unyielding sands.

Now as we feast and raise the cup, where song and cheer abide,
Let grief’s pale star not fade away, nor memory be denied.
For some still weep where love once stood—beside an empty chair,
Their Warrior gone, yet ever near, in whisper, flame, and prayer.

Oh, bless the hearts that bear this cross when trumpets cease to blow—
They mourn beneath the twinkling lights, the softly falling snow.
And while the world in joy resounds, let gratitude appear—
For those who gave, and those who grieve, this sacred time of year.

Timothy F Terrell 12/24/2025

“The Quicksand of the Faithless Heart”

Once whispered words, so sweet, so sure—
“I’ll never leave,” they vowed once more.
Yet hollow echoes mock the vow,
For silence is their answer now.

I clung to dreams, to fragile light,
Through endless days, through ghostly night;
Each promise glowed—a dying star—
Now cold, it fades, as all hopes are.

No wound of fist, nor sleepless ache,
Could match the pain of their deceit;
For love once pure, now frail and weak,
Drowned in the lies they dared to speak.

The earth did quake, the heavens cried,
When faith itself was crucified.
No wave, no tempest could compare
To absence breathing through the air.

The ground, once firm, betrays my tread,
A sinking tomb for things once said.
And I, entombed in shifting sand,
Reach out—a ghost with trembling hand.

“Was I enough?” the night implores,
But echoes haunt these barren shores.
And still I fight, as soldiers do,
Among my kin—both proud and true.

Though loss consumes, though darkness clings,
And silence mocks on shattered wings—
I rise, though broken, scarred, and small,
For truth shall damn the lies of all.

Timothy F Terrell 1/29/2026