The Battle

The sound of a distant trumpet

and the flash of cold sunlight off armor,

the color of the heralds

the violent uneasiness of the warriors

and the smell of fire before my eyes.

I turn on my horse facing westward, away,

my thoughts, my mind but for this moment

very far away from here,

this place high on this hill,

no place for thoughts of you.

Gazing down, I raise my reins,

I draw my sword remorsefully,

and I wonder where I will be when this sun sets,

where I will be a fortnight hence…

I raise my eyes into the sun

feeling its light upon my breast

and the deep sorrow within it.

And I raise a cry across this valley,

a cry from deep within that echoes for millennia

as I lead this stand to challenge fate,

caught between this life I live

and the life I dream.

And for a moment I am afraid,

then I know,

a fortnight hence

I will be home.