Narnian Eyes: A Sonnet Sequence


“War and Peace”

 He fought in battle, later crown’d a king,

he was yet a boy when he took command.

Peter train’d in swordplay every morning

to be the greatest swordsman in all the land.


A king and warrior for years on end:

ruling alongside his siblings happily.

Suddenly shov’d out of his most reverend

home, king became boy again abruptly.


Sliced be the king’s soul as man wars child.

Haunted is the one that stares in his eyes –

Ancient they look; they’ve witnessed all things wild.

There are times Peter’s eyes appear too wise.


The man-minded child finally finds peace.

Through imitating Job, he finds release.


“Only Narnia’s General”


I stepped forward, flicked my tail, and watched them

approach. My visage kept bland amid excitement.

This Centaur wouldn’t be a fool for the sovereigns.

Three children? The prophecy said four—I checked!


I studied Prince Peter to gauge his reply.

Failure raced across his face with Unicorn

speed. Victory so close, what would go awry?

“He has betrayed us all!” I raged with scorn.


Peter’s head snapped instantly in my direction.

He caught and held my gaze for but a moment,

but in those young eyes I saw devotion,

defense—concern for his brother. Commitment.


The fourth had my loyalty before we met.

Thanks to Peter, there’s hope for Edmund yet.


“Joyful Eyes”


One would think energy would wane with age.

But then there is my sister. Filled with Black

Dwarf passion, Lucy leaps and twirls and sways

to pipes, drums, and strings. We never give her flack

for enjoying her dance (except when she drags

me out on the floor). Lu’s gaiety fills all

eyes with joy, even as she slowly lags

behind the song, still weaving around the hall.


Grinning unceasingly, Peter and I

carry Lucy back to her chambers. (Quite

heavy for a lithe ol’ girl.) A happy sigh

escapes our sister as we bid good night,

and Susan tucks her in. She’s asleep before

we leave. Together, we watch her from the door.


 “Sand and Steel”


Edmund sits down in the chamber’s corner

listening to me describe the daring plan.

His silence, this time, is one of support:

he allows me to take complete command.


I study my brother – his eyes bland like

shifting sands. His tension is clear to me.

But we need our sisters to do this right:

to fight, find Aslan, and set Narnia free.


“Peter will duel Miraz,” Ed interjects

when diversions are discussed. Standing tall,

he shocks all gathered. But none can object –

with fewer soldiers, how else can we stall?


Edmund smirks as sand becomes steel, flashing

shrewdly. I grin. Miraz won’t see us coming. 



Someone who doesn’t exist? Ignorant remark!

Faithless conjecture spoken brazenly

to cherished legends held dear in His heart!

To those for whom He suffered selflessly.


Does not exist? Pray, explain to me then

why my heart danced when I first heard His name?

How I saw sorrow in His deep, golden

Eyes? How I can describe His thick, coarse mane?


Perhaps Susan and I hallucinated

His death, His corpse and rising. Or riding

bareback, gathering soldiers; the defeated

White Witch. Did we see Him at our crowning?


Be thankful, oh Dwarf, I rule my fury.

For if I did not, Aslan have mercy!


By Fierce Queen