Warrior poet

Warrior poet

I heard the pipes, I heard the drums.
The first called me to be a poet, the second to be a warrior.

Can the same man carry a song and a battle cry?
Perhaps the bitterness of one makes the other so sweet?

I do not know, but their sounds cannot be ignored.
The calling is unmistaken.

The birds fly south, the salmon swim upstream.
I fight and I write.

I know it, but cannot explain.