Tamed reflections, distant shadows; I stand on guard in this
armour forged from old battle scars. Each lesson learned
in silence teaches you how to move forward; how many
tears can an eye hold, before only the night can hear them?
A blade rests gently on my shoulders, I am knighted by survival,
honoured to be myself, and sworn to the love I once withheld.
In the dark, we weep as _nights;_ by morning, we rise as _knights._
Nights sharpen sorrow into steel, missteps become a measure,
every hesitation, a shield. What once cut down now protects;
for wisdom is a weapon only a night can forge, a Knight holds.
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 4:36 PM UTC
Tamed reflections, distant shadows; I stand on guard in this
armour forged from old battle scars. Each lesson learned
in silence teaches you how to move forward; how many
tears can an eye hold, before only the night can hear them?
A blade rests gently on my shoulders, I am knighted by survival,
honoured to be myself, and sworn to the love I once withheld.
In the dark, we weep as _nights;_ by morning, we rise as _knights._
Nights sharpen sorrow into steel, missteps become a measure,
every hesitation, a shield. What once cut down now protects;
for wisdom is a weapon only a night can forge, a Knight holds.
My first poem of the year—written as a quiet reminder that the nights we survive are what shape the knights we become. A reflection on carrying old scars forward, not as weight, but as armour, and stepping into the new year still standing, still learning, still hopeful.
Request permission to use this poem