I have dreamed of the battle;
And truly I have heard,
The ring of sword upon sword;
And tasted blood between my teeth.
I have met the enemy head on;
And vanquished him.
But not before his blows;
Knocked me time and time again, to my knees.
I have defended hearth and home;
And babies dear, from large demon invaders,
Blasting at my door.
Fearsome foes, not of this world.
I have met them on the field with battle cry;
I ran toward the fray.
I have sailed upon a long-ship bold;
To fight them in their own land.
But now my arm grows weary as I hold my sword.
The place is empty where my human strength resides.
My wound is deep, my tunic stained with my own blood.
The song of battle fades to just a whisper in the wind.
It is not Odin or Valhalla that I seek;
It is another place where all good warriors go;
Where one may breathe the sacred air of peace;
And rest forever with Jehovah God.
Copyright © Wanda Daugherty | Year Posted 2019