For Heather
a little unpolished --
I fumbled it out last night
during slow periods at work
papa
...........................................................
The Raven of Duuran
Come tomorrow’s Princess on the wings of Raven dawn,
And choose with sole right the new ruler of Duuran.
Be thee only simple maid or wizened aging crone,
By the Calling were you gifted powers scarcely known.
Fly before the winds of now and evade the pirate’s greed,
And embrace the people’s ask and will – all you’ll ever need;
For you are the Elector – the Raven of Duuran,
And no man may touch and live, by magic you command.
The brigands carried sails more – she but a lateen scarf,
And the shores of the Abbey Isle would be safe enough;
But they were a hundred strong and she but lonely waif,
With naught but three cages of birds to keep her ever safe.
The first released a starling that fluttered to her aid,
And asked what it might do – what magic could be made.
“Be thee rain of sorrow and I’ll make you Peregrine,
and gift your children speed and courage as you win.”
A thousand darting starlings became falcons to the call
And plunged like arrows of steel to pierce the sails and all,
And in their endless ocean splash rose a shielding mist
That the Raven could escape quick capture at its worst.
But the pirates took to oar and pulled against the tide,
While the maid alone sought freedom soon to be denied,
So she took the pair of doves and made them kestrels white –
One to steer and one to watch as partners ever right.
Then she brought forth the snowbird – the changling of the wings,
And released it from limits that nature only brings.
Behold the Myrddin falcon with power never seen
As now able to be anything – dreamed or ever been.
Feathers gave way to sinew on arms of warrior pride
And the bark flew through the waves in endless churning ride,
‘till the Princess could dance upon the shore in safety
and the scoundrels left in the wake of myth and memory.
So know you of the falcon and gifts from raven hand,
The swiftest thing upon the sky, and mates that ever bond;
And the only creature that hunts through stealth and mimic skill,
To be seen as any bird in flight – a wizard by goddess will.
1 Comments:
At days end, after a gruelling session at the hospital, sitting with Darryl as more chemotherapy dripped through his veins, this poem has given me the wings of hope. I am very touched faucon.
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