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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

- my first attempt at a Sestina

 

Remain

******************

The winter winds chill me to my very my bones,

beat against my squinted eyes and leave my fingers numb

while inside my mind races ahead to the next post,

ever keen to stay alert, or at the very least, alive.

Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood

my children keep my heart from death's cold door.

 

O what brings such foul news to my door?

It rattles this sorry collection of bones,

stirs the soul and boils the blood

though this dark messenger leaves my mind numb

as I struggle for answers. Anything to stay alive

for one moment more, here at my post.

 

Death comes to me, standing here at post

upon the field, knocking 'pon the Devil's Door,

as all around me my comrades, those still alive

after the last assault, take shelter amongst the bones

of those of us who have not seen the dawn. Numb

they may be; yes, and weary, but they still hold blood.

 

And while they hold fast - retaining what blood

has not seeped from their many wounds onto letters they post

home with more regularity than their battle-numb

minds would warrant possible - they'll hold this door

to the East. This they swear upon the bones

of their fallen brothers. They will stay alive!

 

But here and now, that is my only task, to remain alive.

For Evil's fallen forces would have my blood

upon their weapons, upon their breath, upon their bones.

To them I am but another obstacle, another post

they must pass as their masters beat upon the door

of their hearts and minds, battering them till they too are numb.

 

Unfeeling, uncaring, brutish. Once men, now numb

shells of men, driven forward. Theirs is not to stay alive

but to die for their master's cause, to open the door

that leads to Hell and Damnation, awash with their blood

and, such a dreadful sight to behold, paved from pillar to post

with the very marrow they spilt, seeping from their bones.

 

White, sickly, scoured clean of flesh from bones

that lie on this path. Yes, my mind is now numb

as my weapon falls to the ground at my post,

this one last mission a failure. Am I no longer alive?

Blood of my flesh and flesh of my blood

falls about me, covering the field and 'round about the door.

 

Will I step through the door, leaving my numb flesh

and broken bones to soak in the spilt blood upon the field?

Or will I stand at post, turn my heart towards home, and stay alive?

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