War Horse

War Horse

His hooves thundered as he ran,
making the pebbles around him shake.
He trampled iron plated soldiers,
leaving bodies in his wake.

Not a battle left unwon,
not a war left in fear,
by the battle hardened war horse,
and his sword wielding cavalier.

Peace has fallen in these lands,
under the once war torn moon.
War horse draped in garlands,
for ending the war so soon.

But what is he now?
Just a horse with no knight,
wasting away in a beat up old barn.
A soul with no fight.

Flanks withered and old,
tail and mane devoid of sheen.
Dressed in garlands of a different kind,
by a farmer so mean.

Once muscled neck bears a ruffled collar,
and bells jingle from his ears.
Forced to give rides to petty children,
while the crowd around him jeers.

Nothing more than a play thing
this war horse turned into.
Awarded medals collect attic dust,
while he is an attraction at the zoo.

All his wins seem in vain,
when a kid is hanging from his nose.
In hindsight, it was all unimportant.
How hard he fought, only God knows.

In the end, he has nothing left.
Only a ten by ten box called a stall,
filled mostly with dung, but some hay too.
A hero no longer. His life's hit a wall.

How can one live if all they have known,
is death and destruction, pillage and rape.
War was one thing but life is another.
From the wars in the mind, there is no escape.