Welcoming my Warrior King

Welcoming my Warrior King

A war cry echoes inside my ribs.
My warrior king has stirred from his throne.

A blood-stained battle beard.
Sharp blades ready to slice and pierce.
Skillful rage trained to crush the unknown.

His voice booms forth:
  An invading growl is bashing at our gate.
  Its will confronts and defies our way.

But today his bellows feel hollow.
Alone and scarred, his inner war is loosing steam.

Timeless Warrior, why do you still fight?
Your arms seem tired of holding up a shield.

His urges irk through my being:
  Never again will they take our land, the language of our soil, our song lines. 
  I will not let them betray our trust, the rituals of our hearth, our kinship.
  We will not fall slaves again, powerless and weak.

Noble King, I see your pure intentions,
I feel your history in my veins,
the wounds that feed your courage.

A savage force shoots up from gut to head,
to fill the sky with your protection.
I feel your rage.

A cloud of regrets for those you could not protect.
You fight to pay a debt of unworthiness. 
I hold your shame.

An unbearable silent scream
jolts you to fight for survival. 
I cradle your fear.

Dear Ruler: 
Thank you for delivering me from evil.
Let these loyal soldiers rest.

Invasion at our gate or invitation to create?
Lets live anew, through songs of past and future.

He hums and chants with rage distilled: 
  I remember wrestling playfully with my brothers,
  Being me while building them,
  free with strength and tenderness.

New seeds now grow in composted battle-yang.
They stretch high with rivals we respect;
some even wind together with opponents, 
weaving tension into common purpose.

Dear King, your crown will always guide me.
May old strength enrich new soil to lift us 
from blood-fields to brotherhood.

Lion cubs playing with strength and tenderness in the African savanna.