Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet in the Battlefield to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
One arrow left in the quiver of the archer, worn and grey,
While the enemy gathered at the gate at the closing of the day.
He had drawn that bow since boyhood, through a hundred fights and more,
And he knew the weight of a single shot and the silence that came before.
He breathed, and steadied the trembling hand, and he whispered a soft refrain,
Let this one be for the ones I loved and the ones I've lost in vain.
The arrow flew like a falling star through the last of the evening light,
And it struck the war horn of the foe, and it ended the fight.
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Commentary
A single arrow at the end of a long career is the centre of this eight-line epic. The archer’s age and his memories give one shot the weight of a whole life.
There is “one arrow left in the quiver of the archer, worn and grey,” and “the enemy gathered at the gate.” The archer had “drawn that bow since boyhood” and “knew the weight of a single shot and the silence that came before.”
He “steadied the trembling hand” and whispers, “Let this one be for the ones I loved and the ones I’ve lost in vain.” The arrow flies “like a falling star” and “struck the war horn of the foe,” ending the fight without bloodshed.