Wayward Pilgrim

With heavy shield and nimble sword, the pilgrim gallantly strides,
The story told of Christian's journey second only to holy script.
Yet when reader wrongly identifies as protagonist to foe,
The story takes an unpredicted turn.

Armor granted by angels to defend against the arrows of giants,
But used to conceal unrepented guilt and illgotten spoils.
A blade of verse to cut bone from marrow to defend,
Yet wielded to slice fellow travelers. 

Last will be first and the forgotten remembered but pilgrim's loss,
For his name was never uttered by the Master of the city.
Though his likeness be spoken it was declared in vain,
For this congregant was never truly known.

The wages of sin are death, and these just rewards well deserved,
Yet arrogant Sojourner strays from the ancient narrow paths. 
He discovers a voice familiar but of haunted origin,
Until no other whisper can be heard.

Wayward pilgrim will you not hear the plea of those cut down,
Whom given as companion along the way you abandoned?
A voice is heard in Ramah of weeping for uncounted loss,
Children of the church now long forgotten.