Squire…-Eric Syrdal

Squire ES

without a word
I gently laid
the last
of her armor
on the ground
it had been hours since
we had started talking
and I could see
little by little
she began to remove it
piece by piece
unbuckling leather straps
and sliding off sleeves of mail
I, understanding the ceremony
involved in this
and the sanctity of this place
I, fell into my role
taking the pieces one by one
carefully cleaning and mending them
by the light of our conversation
reverently arranging them
before her
so that she may don them
at any time
my labor complete
it would have been easy
to get lost in the sight of her there
to drown in the depths of her eyes
as she spoke about the things
that clawed at the walls of her heart
to focus on
some curvaceous part of her
that was only a moment ago
entrenched behind scratched steel and leather
now warm, and full, and open
the pink filigree impressions
fading from the surface of her skin
where it had been held tightly
by satin and lace
all these things
these small reflections of who she is
pale in comparison
to where my eyes are drawn
and try as I might
I can not tear them away
She is gracious
about my staring
She says it is ok
they do not hurt as much as they did, a brief while ago
I ask if I might fetch some bandages
or salves to take away the sting
She thanks me
she takes my hands
in her own
rough and terrible as they are
and reminds me
that our scars make us
who we are
and not all of them are on the surface
and I know
She speaks the truth

Eric Syrdal is an independent poet/author. He’s an avid gamer and Sci-Fi enthusiast. He enjoys reading science fiction and fantasy literature and spends a great deal of his writing time focused in those genres. He is from New Orleans, Louisiana, where he lives with wife and two children.  You can read more Eric’s writing at My Sword and Shield….

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