Odysseus' Horse

The night is dark, and in here it is darker still I try to sleep, but in vain, for my heart beats so fast Some can rest, and others are standing guard Ready for the battle, ready for the light of day. A man that I barely know; is sharpening his sword so slow I hear and feel the slide of the stone, and I know that he knows that it is sharp But he sharpened still, perhaps to hide his fear Or perhaps to remind himself of his courage in battles past, and to come. The wood at my back is warm and comforting Pure and real, something to touch, and to bring luck. I can even see the grain of the wood in my mind, the tree That once stood tall, and sheltered, and warmed. We have used deceit, we have given; to harm Our enemies are pleased with this gift from the gods This gift that stands wonderfully tall inside their gates. So big, a giant, a sightless horse, a steed. …Later, we feel the wood grow warmer, As the light of day slides through the gaps in the side; Saddling with the task of bluntening our swords On our Trojan foe outside; as we mean to, As we thirty follow Odysseus, to victory.