"The Guardsman of Qalaloom" by James Frederick William Rowe

The Guardsman of Qalaloom

James Frederick William Rowe 

This world is not for us

Its sunsets - its cities

"Qalaloom" Watercolor & Ink on Paper
By J. Artemus Gordon

None of it is meant for us

We are as smoke 

Passed through a ray of light

Even when we are within

We are apart

Making use, but not using

Experiencing, but not knowing

Strangers in our home

Ours is to fight

For that which cannot be ours

To observe all the pleasures

Yet shun them all

But for the pleasure of war

Yes, war - that is ours

I say war and not protection

Though we are guardsmen in name

For it is war that is ours alone

Which is ours to claim

This spear in hand

Strong, steady, certain

As my soul is strong

As my heart is steady

As my duty is certain

It is the mark of what I am

That which distinguishes me

What sets me apart

Which puts me aside

Which marks me as unique

From this height I can see so far

So much, so many

Such sights, such scenes

Witnessed from afar

Always detached, never part

So strange

So strange to witness peace

To see a life lived without care

For indulgence and joy

So unlike me, so unlike

Why then is it familiar?

Familiar as something new is familiar

Other worlds, other lives

Other choices, other fates

This could be mine - this could be me

I do not envy

But I ponder

Why is it that I can be satisfied

In war as an end unto itself

And not for a life lived as they?

The light reflects in the smoke

For a moment illumined – aglow

But as the light shifts, and no wind blows

The smoke returns to darkness

As I return to myself

Poet’s Notes:  This poem details a moment of reverie for the eponymous guardsman of Qalaloom, a member of a military order upon a world or land (I imagined it in a sci-fi setting) where his caste are kept separate, distinct from the common men over whom they guard. As he observes the world from a metaphorical height, he is wistfully pondering how his life differs from those he guards. This wistfulness does not undermine his purpose, but he finds it strange to come to realize how different he is from others. For the time he is "as smoke / passed through a ray of light" but eventually "the smoke returns to darkness / as I return to myself". In other words, the guardsman concludes his thoughts and returns to whom he was. There is no crisis, only a moment of introspection. He remains what he is and always will be.

Editor’s Note:  What a mournful yet inspiring song!  I was at once reminded of George R. R. Martin's "Unsullied."