I whispered those three sacred words to you. You did not hear them. You could not see them as words formed from my heart. Words formed on the frost, plumes of cold, breathing a gentle song not heard. A battle was calling you from your castle walls.
So many walls were built before I came upon the scene. Bloody battles have torn your hope, your trust from your severely scarred heart. I called from the other side of the walls. I tried to show you who I was.
But you have left the castle. You are on a crusade.
You will try to save another and yourself. You donned your plated armor as a young boy. It has grown with you as you battle those demons. You battle hard against being taken down again, being pulled from your steed of determination.
You battle now for another. Another whose upraised sword points toward you and her own pain and demons. You know this life, of being someone’s savior, of bloodied battles and conquests. Of pain, and the clanging of swords raised against each other.
You conquer through the hardness of your armor, Results seen in the cold dawn of post- battles, disappointment all around you, and you holding onto the last bit of assurance in the hilt of your bloodied blade.
I am not the warrior of your dreams. I am the angel of mercy, the woman walking in the dreams of men dying on the battlefield. Men who are thirsty for peace, for soft arms to enfold them, to soothe their furrowed foreheads.
I am the angel that does not heal but is healed. I do not battle anymore. I do not climb the walls. I do not draw the swords.
I walk in the fields, along the edge of the woods. I lay out a feast upon the soft blanket and invite the one who strips his armor, Who can lay aside his fear of being struck. He who can open his heart and see I am no angel. Just a woman whose heart beats strong, hands extended, waiting for love.
It seems I am too soft for you. I am too kind. I am too easy for your warrior heart.
You must battle. Your salvation is on the fields of fire and ash. You battle alone, seeking the love you hunger for. Someday, you will have your last battle. You will be healed. You will lay down your armor.
I pray you will find the heart of your dreams. I pray there will be sweet grass and an angel who will lie next to you. One who lifts you up, and then, your open heart will give her wings. And you both fly away from the scarred, blackened scene of battlefields and bloodied lives. Amen.