Art Work By Diana Stanleyİ
ODE
FOR A FORGOTTEN KNIGHT
The knight of the old ways travels alone,
His friends and companions are all travelling
home.
The wars are all over and now only peace reigns,
And he wants, nor needs, no more worldly gains.
He stops near a pond of crystal clear water,
To wash away the blood, left from the slaughter.
The water is now red from other men's blood,
But he still has to wash away the battlefield
mud.
He lifts off his helmet, feeling alone and old,
And remembers when he was young and bold.
In all this time, only a few years have passed,
But all of them he has feared to be his last.
From under the helmet comes dark, wave hair,
That he brushes aside as if without a care,
But he knows deep down that something is missing,
And at that time he wishes there was someone to
listen,
To hear what he gained, and hear what he lost,
To a war with no purpose, but a very large cost.
He lost his wife, his family and land,
All burnt to the ground and is now only sand.
He worked very hard, and gained his knighthood,
But would surrender it all for the past if he
could.
He fought very hard for his lord and master,
He even became a master spell caster,
But nothing he did could fill the hole,
That sat in his heart and he felt to his soul,
And now that his skills were no longer needed,
He knew in his heart that the loneliness wasn't
defeated.
Many had tried and failed to help him.
No-one could ease the pain of them passing.
All of this passed through his mind by the pond,
Sitting alone washing both sword and wand.
His face was now cleaned of the filth and grime,
And it looked like a face immortalised through
time.
It was a face of beauty, strength and sorrow,
A face that would be brighter on the morrow,
For as the knight sat and thought of what was,
A beautiful maiden appeared by his horse.
She had been told of a forgotten knight of great
merit,
By a beautiful grey wolf she knew to be a spirit.
The knight was in need, or else he might die,
From a broken spirit and an untrue lie,
For he believed that his life was now almost
over,
That he could never feel the love of another.
But he was a good man, a man of valour,
A man who deserved to be honoured and cared for.
His only vice now was a touch of self-pity,
But he would help anyone, whether person or city,
But now there was nowhere that he was needed,
So he was alone, saddened and defeated.
The woman looked at him and her heart filled with
sorrow.
She reached for him and beckoned him to follow.
She took him to her home, small and humble.
He followed her silently, not a sound, not a
grumble.
Once there, they removed his armour and all it's
gore,
The knight still with injuries, feeling sore.
He looked into the eyes of his maiden carer.
She was beautiful to see, he knew none fairer.
The hole in his heart grew a little smaller,
Something was growing there, a new wonder.
She tended his wounds with the greatest of care.
He wanted to touch her, but he wouldn't dare.
He was a knight of the realm, bold and brave,
But suddenly he felt like a common knave.
His courage was gone, he felt small and afraid,
Could she make him feel love, this simple maid?
She truly was beautiful, and kind and pure,
He wanted to love her, but could he be sure,
Would it betray the love he still felt for his
wife?
Should be remain alone the rest of his life?
These thoughts concerned him, what should he do?
Why did the wars end, this is all so new.
Then he felt ashamed at wishing for war,
And felt ashamed for wanting more,
When all his thoughts returned to his wife,
But could this new woman offer a new life?
His heart needed mending but his body was strong.
As he looked at her, he knew this was not wrong.
She wanted to be his as much as he hers,
So the healing turned to loving and the sorrow
blurred.
The whole in his heart was filled once again,
And his life was complete all because of this
maid.
Now he hoped for no war, no fight, no disaster,
He gave up his life as a knight and spell caster,
To be with this woman whom he held dear,
That he held close and hoped would be forever
near.
He still held the values from his knight days,
To be true, honourable and abide the old ways,
And for all the service he did for the needy,
And for all the times he stood up to the greedy,
He once again found a life happy and pure,
A life we all long for, a life that can cure,
Any sadness or ache that your heart may know,
A life we all deserve, a life we can sow,
For ourselves and those loved ones out there,
A life we can live, a life we can share.
Copyright Sharon Jackson 2000 |
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