Through…

I carry the blade over my shoulder
it used to ride upon my hip until it was needed
but now
I carry the blade over my shoulder
the weight of it reminds me
of the burdens I carry
the prickle of its edge against my neck
reminds me
that I am mortal
and cut easily and bleed often
I crush my fingers into the soft leather
of the wrappings around the pummel
I can feel the thrum
of my heartbeat in my palm
I am alive
right now, today
In my other hand
my fingers close around the edges
of a talisman
something cold and hard
a relic of yesterday
constructed and imbued with incantations
to make me strong
to give me courage
but courage is not found within objects
courage is a blue eyed woman with raven locks
who stands at my shoulder
one hand on the small of my back
and whispers to me
with a gentle strength in her tone
and offers me her sword
if mine should fail
ahead of me
looms this dark and terrible wood
some claim
at its heart, lies a place
where death resides
others say all who venture into it
are lost and never seen again
I only know
that it lies within my path
and my journey demands
that I travel
through

About Eric

Writer/Plumber/Poet/Father/Gentleman/Romantic
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19 Responses to Through…

  1. blindzanygirl says:

    Oh my goodness Eric. This is haunting. So good. A truly brilliant poem

  2. Meg says:

    Wonderful! You have such a gift with setting a scene! And I love that you have your swordmate by your side! Good to see you, Eric! 💖

  3. Dear Eric, a stunningly beautiful work of art. You and your brilliant writing have been missed ❤

  4. Rita says:

    Wow, my brother! Just plain wow. 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

  5. Emily says:

    Excellent. Always amazed at how you create new art so organically.

  6. Love this one. ❤️ #mast

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