You Half-Unbuckled

You,
half-unbuckled,
verging upon 
dropping all your armor,
ready to take on what is coming
from out of those dark mists
before you, those charcoal clouds
boiling from eternal battles;
you, 
half-unarmed, 
edge dulled, bow unstrung,
arrows blunted, still
with your stance set to stolid,
holding fast before
what is coming toward you;
you,
trying to recall every word of advice
about how to meet this enemy
with no toxins in your grasp,
no arms to bear against it;
you,
trusting you cannot fall
or fail except by failing
to face it, even if it kills you,
even if it takes you almost
serenely, almost with grace,
lifting you into its maw
and swallowing you;
you,
refusing to let yourself
be absorbed, digested,
making it spit you out
or choke upon the weight
you carry with you into war;
you,
unbuckled, unshackled,
naked now as it approaches, still no
shake in you, no shiver,
nothing but the unsheathing 
of what sits at your core,
the one thing it cannot surround
or destroy: the essence
of what has answered
throughout history

whenever your indomitable name
has been called.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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