Crusade of the Heart

Photo by Nik Shuliahin on Unsplash

In the brittle crisp of dawn

I wake

before my chronic madness

opens its eyes,

and yawns,

and stretches

poised to devour the day

And I brace my soul

for the onslaught of demons

who strike

before I can draw my shield,

before I can see the glimmer

of their shiny blades

before I can summon Ares

for service in my noble war

And I am tossed among the waves

of frenzy

licking the wounds

from swords

I cannot see.

In the white-hot light of day

I struggle

while the rabid ogres

take up arms

and dress for battle

and lunge

at my tender heart

And I fight again

for my sanity

against the onslaught of demons

who strike