Samurai

The following poem was written years ago, inspired by the movie "The Last Samurai"…

A mighty warrior,
imposing armour terrifies,
fearsome blades reflect your fear,
swords hug his immense thighs.

Savage, primitive,
brutal, gory.
A culture lost,
a forgotten story.

Days spent training, honing
skills of war,
prayer, meditation,
combat, and more.

Women and children
secure in their place,
spiritual serenity
etched on every face.

Honour, loyalty, sacrifice –
displace the West’s ills;
Boredom, depression,
associated pills.

A simple life,
uncomplicated,
purposeful, meaningful,
lust for honour unabated.

The village man,
a ferocious combatant,
deadly to encounter,
his fear latent.

He serves one Master,
The Shogun.
His law is the way,
this escapes no one.

On the battlefield,
as failure seems imminent,
he falls to his knees,
his blade evident.

A forceful thrust to his belly,
blade slices left to right,
then up as his body hunches,
a bloody sight.

Hara Kiri, wanton and harsh,
for the warrior its status is high.
This is the way, the Way Of The Warrior,
the way of the Samurai.