Preparing for Battle

A Poem by Aramey

Breathe... by the candlelight,
kneeling under the grace of something,
I don't yet understand...
chained to these stone, cold walls,
a reluctant shiver erupts
a tremble that feels
like an earthquake threatening my soul.
Stained glass windows
a significance that feels so different now
I can't see the storm,
predict it's movement
only a knowing
that it has returned for me again.
And you who tell me not to hear it,
the sounds of the wind
as it's breaking down this door,
while I've knelt,
bearing these scars on my knees
for years
and years
time's endless waves
and still I kneel
with the strength of a lion in spirit,
but my mind has been here before,
clutching every strand of faith
wrapping them around my fingertips
until the tips turn purple,
and now
as things lined up
scattered pieces of heart
fell together
faith no longer forced
just in time to hear
an ominous bang upon the door
thunder darkens the shades of the windows,
and I
am all alone.
I will face the torrent
when it breaks the walls
and knocks away, my home,
pulls faith from my hands
and I'll still fight with all I know,
wielding fire... and brimstone.
I turn to face the sounds
of destruction, hell, and more
eyes ready,
because laying down to die,
is simply not my style.