Can you lift the shield’s mighty mass, shield bearer? Can you bear the great shield’s leaden weight? Can you carry its vast bulk? Can you get off your knees and carry her in your arms?
Can you smell the framed wood’s resinous bite, the great thick skin hide’s tanning, the acid, the dyes and the bronzed warmth of the frozen iron?
Are your arms mighty through the carry leathers? Are your shoulders broad against the strikes to come?
Can she call to your reply? Is she aware of your intent? Do you lie in your fight? Are you true to your word?
Can you carry the call to protect the weak, serve the dispossessed, dependant of the poor?
Are you rich in your spirit and soul?
How great an area can your shield proscribe from the evil, shield bearer? How much peace can your shielding shadow cast? How many can live their loves and lives within the shield’s grace? How much freedom is your reach? All of it? With the shield you will wield.
What of the foe?
Which of them would never shield but seek to expose to nakedness by violence, fraud and storm? Which of them are thieving brigand bands? Which of them are cloaked sleekit assassins with an occulted dagger? Can you discern them and their blood brood?
Can you blind the enemy with the glint of your measured intent under the sun? Can you cast the shield's light into the gloom of their devilry?
Can you see their hidden hands’ work? Can you feel the fight? Can you couch the edge of their intentions?
Stop their murderous blows? Deflect their killer devices and protect our innocent and gentle intercourse?
Can you deal with the lonely responsibility shield bearer?
Go on then.
Lift your shield.
See, she is as weighty as a feathery thin film’s bubble. Light as the caress of a summer breeze. Delightful to your heart. She floats in response to your powerful arm.
She is love.
That leaves your sword arm free.
The Monqueer Pox
10 hours ago