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.”
