You might as well drown, you will never get it out,
the sins, the shame.
It is a part of you now, like a scar.
The saddest part of it is,
you can’t even apologize, because you knew that you wanted to do it for yourself,
not King and Country, your own salacious sovereignty, thoughts of fame and power encompassing your mind like a thick snake.
The defender notes the sword it carries, and how swiftly it swings,
slicing through skin like it were simply apple-flesh.
It is a horror, when there is a knight without honor,
a wolf in sheep’s clothing,
growing more rabid the longer they have to wear the lie.
The Crusades were not Holy, only men who wanted blood.
I put on this armor, because I will not be absolved of my sins,
I will wear these wounds proudly, because proudly, I made them in the flesh of my enemy who I was told to hate.
I wear this armor, to not be washed like weary feet,
or a brash child that needs to heel, but to drown by the wares of war,
have the river thread through my armor like the torrent of tears the Amazon sheds for its trees,
and wait there until the Lord wishes to pluck me out of my purgatory.
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Art found on Pinterest.
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The Word Not World Series (WNW) is an interactive anthology where, once a week, I share a photo and peers give me words that inspired them. Their words inspire poetry, like this one. This poem was inspired by “honor,” by @catscratch345 (IG) and “salacious sovereignty,” by @angela_psalm (IG), “Amazon,” by @myleshungerford (IG), and “defender,” by @clarawatkins_ (IG).
Thank you for your inspiration. If you would like to join in on the fun, I post the picture prompt every Saturday on Substack, and my Instagram page @enis.st.sparrow