by Sharron Dunham
She had heard the distant calling of her Master,
it compelled her to move swiftly like an eagle in flight,
the voice ripples upon the ocean, to the fullness of the sky,
the splendid vastness of the land beckoned her as she rode on horseback to the nearby land,
the foothills stirred in mass procession and only angst and the fallen to be seen.
How does this come to greet me?
She squirmed,
what was to be done as she dwelled upon the thought for seconds,
her memory full of her children and children’s children,
the generations of Singhs and Kaurs that would come to pass,
she turned with mortal cries of exuberance and devotion to strength,
never to waver, never to disregard, she dismounted and led her horse to drink,
as she turned, she stamped her annoyance to men that were without courage
who had willingly left the side of her faithful Master of greatness,
fearless in her tone and poise as she wiped her fine blade without tears or regret.
In her madness of emotion, she pleads for unity and in the still gathering of masses
her inevitable presence is felt at the heart of the 40 deserters,
so with haste she finally gathers the hearts of men that had once turned,
the fear was dug out from beneath their feet
and in her persuasion to unite is once again restored, she arrived with the men to her Master,
her beloved Guru and received the fullness of great acceptance
and as she struck at the very core of her enemy,
she never ceased to make her Master proud
for today she gathers her more favorable thoughts and finds her place where the Guru resides.
The untamed but controlled presence in her,
she now hastens her stride further and gone is the fleeting moment
of short lived betrayal among the men of her village
and in the torment of the last hour of action,
her sense of humor has been defeated under fractured anger she recalled.
She looks around at such a fleeting harassed state and ever too ready for consequence,
for to die in battle would be a good death but never came to pass for her,
as she had come through fierce toil and now a solid victory was her choice,
she had made her intention in her tension ever present,
her Masters domain was her purpose and her constant,
again and again she struck down with gallant force and conviction who dare stand in her path,
her horse as her trusted carrier.
Snarled and scratched the earth, knowing to only save the life of his mistress,
and now with end in sight, one last effort of determination was had and placed upon her,
her wounds a testament to her bravery and self sacrifice the guru pressed praise upon her
and the men that had once deserted fell in dutiful line once again from Guru’s forgiving hands,
and as she smirked through her pain no sorrow was to be had
and the satisfaction of victory was restored.
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