Šauška on the Battlefield

Soft little one
See how my delicate hands
Can pick you up

I lean in close
And whisper
Into you

A prayer
Anointing the top
Of your head

Exalt, dear one
For you will not survive
Without fortifications

I speak with my tongue
Instead of
Words

This is a gentle
Reminder
To stand tall

I speak with my saliva
I can tell that you
Hear

You are my warrior
You are my lance of
Steel

Yes
You are nearly ready
To engage