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