(I sensed your shift … your drift …)

You Raise Your Sword

I’ve known of
your movement,
during and since;
no longer needing
to convince.
Steady, onward.
Encroaching.
Though not
approaching entirely
within view.

I knew,
as you
initially intimated.
I sensed your shift,
your drift,
and ill-intent,
incrementally inching
forward.

Today you reach
the fissure, deep;
the chasm in-between.
You observe, measure
my stronghold;
my side in clear view,
palpable, vulnerable,
from your side.
The other side.

My strategy and diversions,
well-thought and placed,
delay your arrival
and entry
to and through
these confines;
but, for a moment.
You’re skillful, savvy,
and traverse our divide;
our expanse,
quickly,
with singular focus.

Though I’m ready
for the onslaught
and your attack,
ready isn’t wont
for acceptance.

You approach.
We meet again.
Eye-to-eye …
face-to-face.
With no hesitation
you raise your sword,
look down at me,
and smile;
while, I plunge my blade,
no longer blunt …
though you.

I look down at you …
and smile.