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.
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