I am a warrior.

tell me that I am not,
and you will have some fiercely chosen words hurled at you
butnotdirectlyatyoubecauseimnotgoodatconflict.

you see
i have fought many a doubter,

kept at bay
without ever being a shouter.
mostly.

but, I am a warrior,
i go to war every day.
fighting against the overarching flames
entangling me in its’ depth.
forcing me to pry its' grasp away from my throat
giving me just enough air to say 'good morning.'

'I’m fine.'

It let go.
I struggled out of its pale, bony fingers...
I doubted and contemplated other means of escape, but I kept fighting,
Never giving up.
***** fingernails, bitten raw,
Was what I saw when it grabbed me in the hallways many years ago.
But I never stopped trying to break free.
Never.
I scratched, kicked, and screamed!
I scratched and hit,
And the blood of the hands just poured   Down,
Down,
Down,
Red thick blood.
And it laughed. It laughed in my face.
When this happens, don’t be startled or scared. Don’t give up.
Because when it laughs, it’s in pain. And
Finally,
Finally,
Finally,
It let go.
A month ago, maybe two.
Maybe yesterday or tomorrow,..
I stopped keeping track.
But I’ve finally been able to smile
Without the sadness holding onto me.
You’ll get there too.

Is it awful?
Is it dreadful?
Or...
Is it pleasant?
Is it splendid?
No words can explain the sentiments of a soldier.
For it hurts more than a thousand raindrops of bullets,
A mountain of horrifying grenades,
A roaring line of cannons—
Bombing through the air.
And down below,
Bits of debris.
Scattered.
Covering the ground.
And she said:
“Take shelter my warrior.
But should you not forget.
For things will go smoothly.
Go now...
And never come back.
For the wind will take its place.
Strong and abrupt.
And then.
The dark.”

Once there was a warrior
Filled with great strength and valor
He lived in his countrymen’s honor
The pride of all, their conqueror

Fought off enemies, beheaded them all
The kingdom’s power, the rise and the fall
For the warrior never kept his pledge of thanksgiving
To the one who forged his mighty sword, the marvelous king

The king of kings have patiently waited
For the knight to grant the wish he wanted
A decade has passed, a new beginning has risen
No sign of return, the king has been forgotten

While the warrior was earning his praises and victories
A loud thunder was heard from the skies to the galaxies
The king has arrived with a triumphant sound
With fuming rage, he howled like a hound

“Where art thou who sought for a strength none like other,
Along with the sword of irreversible power,
Alas, thou ungrateful son of Sin and Evil
In eternity thou shalt suffer in excruciating peril!”

Consumed by arrogance and vain
The warrior suffered in pain
Agony and remorse in him remain
Crying for mercy, his tears shed as rain

To Ellac, I bequeath a nifty hat trick:
     The Treaty of Margas,
        Which Rome will probably now
          spit upon,
     The Sword of Mars,
        Once taken by your unscrupulous
          cousins, the Vandals,
     And Esperanto,
         For talk around the water cooler.

To Dingizich, I bequeath my Alexander the Great
     Commemorative plates and the Gaza Strip
         --have fun with that one.

To Emak, I bequeath the Goths
     --Visi, Ostro, and Joy Division.

To all my remaining children,
      I leave you a year's supply of
      Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco treat.

To my many, many wives, too numerous to count,
      I leave my fingers and toes
      Or a portion thereof.

And to that one particular wife, you know who you are,
      I bequeath the title
     The Scourge of God.

When she blinks her magical eye,
The one that rolls and slides, It flickers a flutter a silk soft shudder,
A baby local goodbye.

The raging roars quiet
The shuffling seas foam.

This is the warrior
whom made me her king.

A ranger,
a wizard,
a watcher,
a rogue.
A queen’s amen
A king’s soft sigh.

Trigger the trusted,
the twisted,
the kind.
A quicker fault facer
with a softer inside.
No royal master
From earth is seen.

A sniggle,
a snuggle,
a snort,
a snore.

Her passion was life
Her agony was divine
Her choice was death