The Warrior Awakens

Once, I walked with ghosts beside my stride, Not born of fear, but truths I would not face. Old vows I kept, old wounds I let reside, Mistaking quiet for a steady place.

I bent. I waited. Bore another’s load, Confused restraint with strength, with moral gain. I called it love, the weight I never owed, And paid for silence with a deeper pain.

The pressure came the way the stone must break Not all at once, but slowly, grain by grain. Each unspoken cost, each choice I didn’t make, Built discipline without a guiding aim.

I learned too late, but learned it all the same: What you refuse to face will rule your will. A man unnamed becomes an open flame, Consumed by what he will not stand and still.

So I withdrew my knee from unseen thrones, Stopped bowing down to echoes in the dark. A man must claim his path, his weight, his bones, Or drift forever, leaving only mark.

Now I forge quietly, with breath and sweat, With steel and step and effort daily made. No crowd to cheer, no debt I must collect, Just work that answers when its price is paid.

My body learns the truth of earned demand, My mind remembers where its edges lie. Not shaped for war, but shaped to firmly stand, To carry what is mine and let rest die.

My sons will not inherit what I fled, Nor wear the chains I learned too late to see. They’ll know a man who chose the road ahead, Who built his life in order, wide and free.

The dawn finds me awake, not seeking grace, Not running hard from sorrow or from shame. I stand inside the life I chose to face, No longer ruled by ghosts I would not name.

The warrior wakes, not driven by the fight, Not crowned by rage or hunger to command, But forged by choice, by structure, and by sight, A man who knows exactly where to stand.