Checkmate

[I’ve written this free verse in the slightly dramatic narrative of the six pieces you find on a chessboard.]

 

We stand lined up in formation at the battlefront.
The air is thick with bloodlust.
Capture and conquer is the command.
Martyrs are what most of us end up becoming.
They call us Pawns.

I have mounted my valiant steed.

Our souls are two but camaraderie makes our fate one.
I take a deep breath just as we’re about to charge into the battlefield.
They call me a Knight.
 

I whisper a silent prayer as it begins.

I agreed to sacrifice my miter if it would save the king’s crown.
They call me the Bishop.

 I cast a watchful eye over battlefield from my high tower.
Defending my troops and engaging in combat when necessary.
After all defending and attacking are two sides of the same coin.
They call me the Rook.

 I draw my sword from its sheath.

Here royalty doesn’t command from the side-lines,
we fight at the front lines.
On the battlefield, the eager talons of death are ever ready to clutch at life.
I am their trump card their deadliest human weapon.
They call me the Queen.

 I stand strong on the battlefield.

Death saved me for last.
I watch helplessly as bravehearts are slain.
After a series of calculated moves,
We avenge our troops in one final blow.
Checkmate. Swords fall to the earth.
They call me the King.