Who Teaches Us Warriors? Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

Who teaches us warriors
when holding our knives
to move from the blade
to the handle of life?

Too long did I cling
to the sword of my will
its blade much more sharp
than a porcupine's quill

With fingers quite bloody
and battle scarred frame
I tossed in the gauntlet
surrendered in shame

Then out of the ashes
my feeble hand touched
a smooth birch wood handle
which I quickly clutched

I brushed off the weapon
and found in surprise
it was the same sword
that I once so despised

Who teaches us warriors
when holding our knives
to move from the blade
to the handle of life?