It had your family name –
or it became your family name.

Hefting it with both hands,
you’d wonder how much of it
had stayed the same; had
the blade been reforged?
How often had the leather
failed, or the hilt lost lustre?

It had known many hands
that shared your blood.


The calloused axe head fell
a rather long time ago
split from heart and handle
by any number of possibles.

Strong wood shield, perhaps?
or striking metal breasts
or slipping between bone.

It was discarded, but
it has outlasted its