On the banks of the Skamandros

Past quarrels, my panoply against the world.

I will not strip or use the armor of the dead or

face my enemies before the walls of a city the gods forsake.

I know what I am capable of and refuse

to kill or die upon the dust of pride.

Let Achilles act the fool, slay his demons,

drag his enemies behind his chariot.

Others may win glory, I wait quietly

behind the walls, tabulate casualties,

and preserve the safe citadel,

while Nepo children die on blood soaked fields,

reputations written by the blind.

9-18-26