The Gauntlet
Step where I have stepped,
tread where I have trod,
weep what I have wept
and crawl where I have clawed.
Then, and only then,
may you judge what I've selected -
only then have you earned my yen,
to abandon the gashes I've collected.
Retreat not, then, I dare you,
hovel not in your early barrow.
Shelter not to make it through,
hide not from relentless harrow.
See your friend and charge
laying there next to your door,
try to bring him back from the marge,
and instead see him forever on that floor.
Take your father and drive across this land,
a will to live, to fight, you slowly rebuild -
succeed at staying his self-sanguine hand,
and a year hence, hear how he was brutally killed.
Try to focus on what you have left,
to your closest kin should you hold.
Then rapidly find yourself bereft,
your own brother's flag, soon you fold.
Then, and only then,
come back and tell me to stand,
when you can well and truly ken
the source of my soul's brand.
Merely half have I relayed here,
the easier for you to join me -
carry but one crucial bier,
and know that 'one' is only the lee.
Challenge me to sally forth hence,
to draw blade and hold the line.
My oath against your pretense,
my loss against your spine.
Copyright © Andy Sprouse | Year Posted 2024
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