Gladiator
Locked in place on a high cross
Swords spoke the foreword
A quick glance at eternal peace
Combat defined his wounds
Only the pen of history
Penetrates his heavy armour
Behind his shield lies purgatory
At the height of an evil empire
Cracked dried lips to steel
Exposure to the kiss of death
Vanguard to a spiritual thirst
Glistening in the sun unsheathed
Doors open to unknown corridors
Momentarily blinded by a flood
Of light - vulnerable to carnivores
Engrossed in the scent of his blood
A costume designed to antagonize
Missiles of jeers from the masses
For the iron fist it symbolises
On their visibly anguished faces
Metal sparks fly to illuminate
The wide-eyed in the grandstand
Fireworks displayed in the court
On unchained blistered hands
A heavy heart to condemn
Stumbling in his reluctant march
Enslaved for the true price of freedom
A beheading at tip of Caesar's thumb
The first blow is on target
Sends his mind off on a tangent
Far beyond the castle walls
To a dream of a love lost and distant
Behind the lowered vice
Is a soldier wanted for treason
For gold and land promised, but
Never delivered for reasons never given
For centuries feared far and wide
The myth of a fire-breathing dragon
He relinquishes his mask – his pride
Lies dying of his wounds in the dungeon
When the battlefield still had honour
Before death became a spectator sport
For those with a twisted sense of humour
A gladiator once lived and fought
08-18-2015
Thabang J. Ngoma
Copyright © Thabang Ngoma | Year Posted 2015
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