a poem by Wienke Niedermanner

Relief.
An arrow in peaceful relief
hit the one whose nose followed great glory ‘fore grief
made his arms throw his weapons, his trademark, away,
so relief marked his trade, sent him peace, let him lay.
No hero was happy, he died in a smile,
His heart, after aching, rejoiced one last time.

Nostalgia.
Tears of nostalgia have run
down his fairly fair cheeks, when he held him so clung
to the heart that’s been loved and had loved further more
than another had ever, except which he mourned.
Two shadows that waited for fate to be done,
Break their silence like clouds let break through the sun.