Warrior Poet
One sees him walk with confidence,
A darkly rough hewn sight.
His presence at your side or back
Might even squelch a fight.
One cannot know, with just a look,
He's more than muscled bone.
His salted beard and shaggy hair
Add texture to his stone.
His mien is calm. He radiates
A subtle primal vibe,
The alpha of his close knit pack,
Of his extended tribe.
But that's a judgment of a book
Unopened and unread,
A caving to experience,
Of prejudices fed.
If one would hazard his bold gaze,
One's sure to feel surprise,
For at the slightest hint of need,
There's kindness in his eyes.
His surface yields to soft approach
By those who dare to look.
Most think they'd read of violence,
But find a different book.
They'd find a world of love and light,
A wealth of sage advice,
A lot of information in
His thoughts, distilled, concise.
Inside his grizzly outer shell
Is heartfelt tenderness,
Exposed by those who's pain's been eased
By him with some success.
His warm compassion's famous
In the circles where he's known.
But lately it's through poetry
Where his small fame has grown.
The richness of his intellect
Is hinted at in rhyme.
That it moves hearts the world around
Surprises him each time.
The souls that he's drawn close to him,
Form who he is today.
They've smoothed the edges knapped by fate,
And polished his display.
And in his turn, he guards them all,
As any warrior would.
Their bodies, minds and spirits all,
Help mark the line he stood.
Richard Higley © Oct. 01 2015