Onward

Yesterday….

                …the knight was knocked from his horse,

                as one does when in battle.

He laid on the ground

                broken and bruised,

                catching his breath.

His horse was missing.

                Defeat, although witnessed,

                 is a solitary thing.

Yet, from the village far away, a bird did chirp.

                There was a faint aroma of peonies.

                He felt the earth moving beneath him.

His horse nudged his shoulder.

                Shakily, slowly, he stood.

                And as he did, he said, “Onward.”

Today…

                …the knight tends to his horse

                as one does when noble and caring.

His own wounds are nursed by his lady.

                His children kiss his forehead

                and tell him stories.

Villagers, grateful for past deeds,

                bring by bread, wine and song.

                They jest and laugh together.

He pounds out the dent in his armor.

                Another scar it carries

                but sturdier it becomes.

On his shields it bears his emblem

                and a few letters.

                It says, “Onward.”

Tomorrow…

                …the knight, at sunrise, will rally forth

                as one does that rides with Purpose.

From his lady, he has a kiss on his lips

                And her scarf tucked away by his heart.

                In his hand he holds yellow dandelions

                from his children.

His satchel has bread, cheese, and tinder

                from the villagers,

                and a scrap of paper

                with a few words from an obscure poet.

The gate opens.

                With straight back and eyes forward,

                He rides.

                And he says, “Onward.”