Reaching Poem by Elizabeth Shield

Grace was with him
In his stride; laced between his fingers;
along each vertebra; mingled with his hair.
It matched the pride and determination
that gave his steps conviction
that gave his arms their strength
And each was leavened by
the laughter in his eyes

A bygone age
Would have claimed him in an instant
cloaked him with honor and duty, and
made him commander of men
Forth they would race, against the odds,
to free the captive, winning glory with their deeds

Yet weakness was in him
In his eyes, behind his teeth,
settled on his hips and beneath his feet
He thought himself too small, too weak
And strove for the love of man
Hunger and excess, his companions
While his father's pride was elusive
Failure brought with it heartache
Which he slung like an overcoat
across his strong shoulders

So near to all good things
Outward perfection formed a shell
Beneath were echoes and decay
Decades in the making

Now he steels himself again
To faces the days without trajectory
To walk on and on in the dark