The Last Battle

By Ashwath Ramesh

I watch the axes fall,

I see branches creak n stall,

I hear the "thwack", "thwack",

And then the sharp crack...

I feel the breeze blow,

And the creak flow slow;

I hear the birdsong wind on,

As the dark is finally gone…

Out come the townspeople,

Headed to the tall steeple,

To council and a dawn on grass,

Toward the call of the brass...

'Tis my view, on this dusty day,

As my scabbard does sway,

It clangs the shield slung arear,

The shield of a Warrior!

In mail, with sword and shield,

Which as sentry I wield,

I stand, in hand a spear,

The spear of a Warrior!

I watch folk pour out,

To a day of no worry or doubt,

And know my guard is over,

But then I see... Oh No! Never!!!

Horsemen, spearmen, archers, swordsmen,

A wall advances down the glen;

I feel, I sense their cold aim,

Another city to add to their claim;

I run down the gate, in panic n' terror,

For the sight brings in me horror;

I call for warriors, for fighting men,

"Fetch every axe and sturdy sword,

And string the bows with fresh cord...

Tis' a siege bloody we await...."

And so rush to guard the gate!

They end their advance, and jeer,

They throw insults, but get no near;

Ferocious they be, but cautious,

And lives do they not award us;

We spy a scout, with escort,

Approach under banner of truce;

Up the hillside they dart,

Demand surrender, sans use;

'Tis a siege, we choose to fight,

Or cut off to starve be our plight;

So we leave the town, and sortie down,

N’ form the wall of shields woody brown.

Led by our Lord, we go to battle,

To save our town, weapons must rattle;

Yet 'tis futile, though we be many n’ they few,

For they as soldiers grew;

Yet we go, and our ranks meet,

Arrows fly, sharp n' fleet,

Clashes n' thuds roar round,

As man sends man aground;

We raise our shields, stab swords in,

They lower shields, thrust to win,

N’ then abrupt, our wall breaks,

The foe plant in us deathly stakes;

Now fight we one on one,

For honour as lives are lost n’ won;

I put one down, meet another,

As beside me falls a brother;

But no mortal lives after an arrow,

Through his spine's soft marrow;

Oh!! My fate, my blood to spurt,

On the wet bloody dirt,

to fall n fleck, beside my neck...

My soul ebbs, I do my last act...

Keep my sword hold tight,

To pass in pride, in honourable fight,

As my last i breathe, my last i blink...

Among the carnage, at death's brink,

And into the void i slink...

By Ashwath Ramesh