weapons

Assume me not, neither heart nor soul.
I am not yours, perhaps not my own.
And from strange lands and distant waters grown.
Born once of pain, purified by loss.
Scarred by grief, tempered now by fire.
I am a blade of metal purged of dross,
and wielded by naught but my own desire.

Do not assume me, my way is not yours.
Mine is a path with homes in heaven and hell
and I will do as I must but still, remember..
The Gods forge their weapons well.

M.J. McGuire-Curry
January 17 1997