Valhala

This old wound —
like the sword that pierced Tristram’s side
and Siegfried’s shoulder
Achilles’ heel —
It is still there
an echo of the
impaling grief.

I forgot the snapping of the banner,
that I was still lying on the field
suddenly remembered —
there it is —
the spear point and
all the arrows
and the ravens circling overhead
The silence of the battle
pierced by the echo of the last ringing sword

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