Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. Obviously.
Poet's Note: I wrote this, oh…maybe five years ago? Six? And I recently came across it again, and edited it for publishing. This is not Lord Byron-quality poetry, and I don't apologize for it. It's also approaching rant status. Ah, well. It's one of my favorite pieces, and I'm satisfied.
Heart
of a Trooper
Shadowlord
Faceless
soldiers in helmets of white,
Used to
years of dealing death,
Ruthless
by training, loyal by nature,
Punished
for anything less.
But once
they were young, with naïve dreams
Of honor
and glory and pride,
Of
rescuing damsels and serving their land,
Of doing
what they thought was right.
When did
these happy young men
Become
killers with hearts of ice?
Could they
the same people still be,
Only
colder, more efficient, more precise?
Perhaps
they have been disillusioned.
Perhaps
that's why few become Rebels.
Perhaps on
the battlefields of this Great War
They found
new meaning of heaven and hell.
Stormtroopers
are much more than paid cannon fodder.
They have
hopes and dreams and goals,
Likes,
dislikes, hobbies, rivals,
Hearts and minds and souls.
Courage is
the same no matter where found,
In a Sith
lord or in his daughter.
So why is
it valor is never seen
When it's
found in the heart of a trooper?
Why must
they pay for doing their jobs?
For
loyalty to what they love?
Rebels
fight for freedom; Stormtroopers do, too.
But why
isn't it enough?
You fools,
you fools. The troopers will always
Be better men than you.
Are you
willing to die for what you believe?
In an
Empire of pieces, they are the glue.
I dare you
all to this simple challenge:
Be better
than the troopers.
We should
all be as noble as these fine men.
Only then
will we have order.
