Back to life
I can hear the clash of swords and halberds
I see him, he will be mine
I go straight towards my target
I need to do it for my people, my kingdom, myself
nothing is lost yet.
My horse runs, the drum in my chest beats fast
my breath warms my face under the helmet,
this is my moment.
The noises of the battle are roaring for me
my knights are ready
the White Boar will win. Again.
Suddenly my horse stops, I fall down
I need to fight on my feet.
Soldiers are waiting for me in the storm of the battle
They look at me, I look in their eyes
but hatred and rage burn
I can see the fire of treason.
Alone. I feel alone
the clash of swords and halberds is upon me now.
I fight with all my strength against my assailants.
Something enters my body,
I feel the acute pain of metal in my flesh
I am falling, my helmet is lost, nothing can save me now.
All is lost.
The White Rose is losing his petals,
something warm and red is covering my face
I can taste blood in my mouth
the White Boar can’t win anymore
treachery is murdering him.
My crown is lost, my kingdom is lost, life is abandoning me.
Oh Lord, save my soul.
Silence and darkness.
The noises of battle are distant now.
I can’t hear them anymore.
I see my naked body viciously mistreated
but I don’t feel pain nor the blood in my mouth
just the bitter taste of loneliness.
Time goes by. Years, decades, centuries
but I am not ready to be found.
Slanders and hate on my name
I am a monster now, the most maligned monarch ever
Richard the murderer, the hunchbacked king.
I lay here in the darkness.
I can hear the monks’ choir, the horses’ hooves
the carriages’ wheels, the roar of iron lions upon me
but I am not ready yet.
Finally, my day arises.
It’s the same day I was hidden to the world
the day they stopped looking at my abused body
and put an unnamed gravestone on what remained of me.
Today, I will rise again
I have chosen my rescuer who will bring me back to life.
No clash of swords and halberds
just the mercy of all those who love me, who trust in me
who still fight on my side, the ones I chose for my rebirth.
The White Rose of the Boar will blossom once again for them.
Written passing by Bosworth by Maria Grazia L. Leotta