- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Smudged Battlefield
The field is clear, it’s all perfect and white.
I glance down to make sure my spear’s sharpened bright.
The lines have been drawn, the time’s drawing nigh.
My purpose is clear and I know I must try.
The enemy’s in sight and they throw up a yell.
I raise my spear high and we give one as well.
My palms are all sweaty and my nerves have gone mad.
In all of my battles, it’s the worst case I’ve had.
I look back at the ranks, at the legions at hand,
Adorned in their armor, they fearlessly stand.
Their sight makes me proud, and I raise our flag high.
We cheer for our banner as it touches the sky.
We face the foe proudly, our confidence aglow.
There’s fear in our hearts, but they never shall know.
A challenge is thrown from the opposite side.
We answer it fiercely with all of our pride.
In that instant I know that the moment is here.
I spur my mount forward through the deafening cheer.
There’s a roar in my ears, and all else seems dead.
My senses are focused on what lies ahead.
The pounding of hooves beats a rhythm of war,
Like a drum with a heartbeat that’s felt to the core.
And then like two waves our vast armies merge.
I lead my men forward in the mightiest surge.
The sound of sharp steel rings clear through the air,
And I see some men fall with a blank, empty stare.
My anger flares hot and I slice out a way,
For the real battle lies with their commander this day.
Our eyes finally meet in that gruesome expanse,
And our bloody blades fly in the deadliest dance.
My steel seeks an opening though it seems none exist.
His will shows no flagging and still I persist.
In a moment of pausing my focus has fled.
I realize my mistake and I know I am dead.
He swipes at my leg and to one knee I fall.
The pain is unbearable, but I’ve not lost it all.
There’s a grin to his lips, he thinks he’s won,
But little does he know that I’m far from done.
He lifts his sword high for one final blow.
It’s the opening I need and I let myself go.
A swift tumble and thrust, and my blade hits its mark.
His eyes take it in, though they’re listless and stark.
All pain forgot, I rise to a stand.
He touches his chest and stares down at the hand.
His eyes find my face and he sinks to his knees.
I make sure my face is the last thing he sees.
The light leaves his eyes and they close for good.
I pity this tyrant though it’s odd that I should.
His deeds have been done, his reward is his own.
He met his end and his spirit has flown.
My gaze scans the fallen who fought for vict’ry.
They’ve given their lives in the fight to be free.
Our battle is won and I raise forth a cry.
It is joined by the others in a sound meant to fly.
It’s the sound of our freedom, of liberty won,
And our tumultuous chords hail the rising sun.
The new light shines down o’er the smudged battle field,
And I slowly put down the dull pencil I wield.
My story is finished and I wish it were done,
But you see, the next battle has already begun.
In the battle to write down the thoughts from my brain,
I have nothing to lose and all things to gain.
But a battle is fought in the minds of all men.
The question is which side will win in the end.
In the battle for self, it’s easy to lose sight,
Of where you are going, and what’s really right.
So remember dear warrior, your battle field is clear,
Now pick up your sword, ‘cause your moment is here.