No easy path, nor whispered breeze, for those who take this course,
grip the reins and mount this steed,
this fierce and mighty horse.
Nostrils flare with steam in morn,
as hooves paw darkened soil,
danger be this steed that rears,
that carries me to toil.
Honor bound is path we take,
compassion is our sword,
it pierces the day as sun to night,
our shield be ne’re lowered.
Many shed this Honor ‘mail,
though armoured they prevail,
they give themselves to weak embrace,
when troubles yet assail.
Though needed most,
they often give, away their strongest shield.
In times of need they stand alone,
in fright and fettered field.
To they we ride, this steed and I,
for Honor draws us on,
to those in need who cry in grief,
and fail to see the sky.
No reward can come from this,
but pain and deepest sorrow,
for lift we do the burdens theirs,
and carry them through ‘morrow.
But pain is strength and armoured strong,
if lifted from the weak,
to raise them up when fallen low,
and find what they may seek.
Honor bright it hurts the eyes,
of those who cling to dark,
to sway from hope those most in need,
weakness be their mark.
Gazing down from misty crag,
illum’d by rising light,
Honor be this shield I raise,
Compassion burning bright.
To love the weak in hour of need,
as much as they who prey,
for they who harm as well as hurt,
is not for me to say.
Be they saved or cast aside?
For all have inner light.
Though clouded be by deeds of past,
who may say what’s right?
Not to judge but e’er fight,
for those who cannot stand,
and those who keep the weak from light,
still I give my hand.
It is an honor to accept this award, along with so many talented writers at Thursday Poets Rally.