
Photo by Susanne Jutzeler, suju-foto on Pexels.com
Set aside your trepidation
and fight with this generation,
sharpen your blade
to steal veneration
by clean crusade,
yet quick defeat
leads to heady retreat
to arm stations
in the city’s blockade–
no two-edged sword
cuts backward
in an expert’s hands
but shame
slays cities
asunder–
so give your final standing warrior
most divine oblations,
hang all hopes on
dueled negotiations
and when the warrior falls
and the enemy
claims cloth congratulations,
pray the parapets
of midnight
withstand devastation;
crucial crossbows
falling in the mire
can’t climb out
to save you now,
so save your selves
you suds and knotters,
save each other
dawns and stutters,
run from the tumbling ramparts
guard the sheep
hold up flags of fleece
as a last surrender
so the conquering army
might keep you for
their scene of celebration
before tearing your city
like thunder.
Wow, really powerful poem.
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Thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed it!
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You’re so welcome and I did!
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