Mentor

Looked down with a scowl Irritant disapproval Chastising the independent deviation From the quo, status not to be Challenged, words of shame poured From those reverent vials, heavenly lips Of wisdom, never questioned Threatening to destroy what had taken so long To build. The time had come. Telemachus’ shield forged in ancient fires Burnished by the gods, leapt from The iron of tyronic breast, taking shape of will To deflect in obedient force of honor; The sword Sheathed from the beginnings of silence Ripped from its scabbard, swung in bold arc A flash of light trailing in its wake Severed the master’s head. (Previously published in Boloji, Apr 2003)