Disgraced Warrior


Her smile is sarcastic
And openly condescending.
“if your heart is cloudy—
So is your sword.”
I lower my head in shame—
But I don’t have to see
The laughter in her eyes
To know it’s there.
My sword—
The only thing left to me
Since my shield was lost.
I gave it
To him that I wished to be
My champion—
A symbol
To declare to all whom saw it
That I felt no fear
And had no use of my shield
When with him.
“What is a warrior
Without her shield?”
My sword remains
Jewels glinting in the firelight
Alive and beautiful.
My fingers trace each carving
Decorating the hilt
And the amethyst pommel
Is warm beneath my touch.
She laughs
And takes my sword
Powerless to stop her
I can only watch
As she withdraws it
From the white leather sheath
Holding it up
For all to see my disgrace.
“This sword
Can no longer reflect the moon.”
Her laugh is cold
Harsh
And unforgiving.
With a flick of her wrist
She’s offering it to me—
“So tell me
You whom would dare
To call yourself a ‘warrior’…
What can it cut?”
Tears fill my eyes
But I know it’s the only way
To cease the agony
As I lift the beautiful blade
From her steady hands.
My arms are shaking
As I wield it
But she smiles
Satisfied…
“Nothing”
She states—
“It can cut
Nothing.”
…and she’s right
For my own flesh
Is all my cloudy sword
Can penetrate.