Wrought Iron

Watching her preen herself with envy green

Attempts to sharpen herself

on the surface of you

Only left her more dull.

Shavings scattered on the ground in a rainbow arc.

By this method you’ve been tempered,

From fire to water and back again.

This is what the bellows wrought

A blade both cunning and beautiful.

Wrought iron sought no siren

To draw attention to herself,

Unlike the one who gouged bits out

To begin this brutal work,

The catalyst of forges holy.

I’m no dummy I know

What swords are made for

I’ve only nicked my knuckles

And I can’t imagine the blows you’ve known

To become this instrument honed.

But you don’t use your edge

For causing harm, pain, or alarm

Rather to protect the loved ones you collect

A guardian, a safe place, a strong defender.

– Vagabond Prophet