I am a Warrior.
Standing firm upon the ground that I claim as my own.
I cannot see my enemy, nor smell him, nor touch him.
I do not hear him enter the battlefield.
He is there.
Waiting patiently for me to let my shield down.
For just one moment of weakness.
I did not ask to be a Warrior.
A Fate I do not understand has chosen me.
I walk the battlefield alone.
Those that would stand firmly next to me, run in Fear.
They know my enemy's power.
They have stood beside past Warriors.
Harsh memories of lost battles turn them away
Appalled at my own battle scars.
I do not want to look.
Yet I enter the arena each day hoping for victory.
This enemy will most likely win in the end.
But I am a Warrior, born to fight.
Each day I will put on my armor,
Raise my shield,
Ignore my scars,
And do battle alone.
I fight in memory of honored Warriors.
I raise my meager weapons against an enemy I only know by
name.
Cancer.
And in the end,
live or die,
I will be victorious.
For I have stood on hallowed ground.
And embraced the spirit of a
Warrior.
