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Shield

My shield sits close
hammered, primed
for the day
It is strapped
tight on my arm,
hiding my heart.

My shield is ancient
warding word blows
aimed to wound
It is held
Over my head
before my face

My shield is wit
Self mocking laughter,
You will not pierce.
Silver it glints
Deflecting arrows;
A breastplate.

My shield is forged
from air not earth
from water not fire.
My spiritís protector
you will not see
yet know itís there.

My shield is smiles
keeping safe my song
just listen
Loveís quiet may
gently, carefully
undo the straps.

Maggie McLean

If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Maggie McLean
would be pleased to hear them.


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