Part III
.
If only he could pray
a hundred prayers
behind those doors
sealed shut with blood;
and if only he could journey
through such ventures
in his mind,
but it was a graceless peace
and none could blunt the edges
of the siege.
~
They all came in to parlay
in the temple of the gods,
to cavort with ailing mistresses
and count their stolen gold.
But one among them
saw the faces
etched into the altar –
it was he that spoke the word
against the body-guard
and he who never bent
his sterling sword again.
~
She stared into the candle’s fire,
saw the great procession
stirring dust around his feet;
and when he slept, she knew —
she felt his fingers
press her palm
till unlocked tears
ran down her face
to dowse the flame once more.
~
Alas, it was all over
before the contract was revealed
and so he rode
the slippery night
disowning fate,
hiding his name,
for now the crown might never know
true royalty again
and countrysides would shrink
in misplaced blame.
~
It was late summer
when they rode inland
hidden from the lochs —
just one name
between them now
and only the forest to know.
~
And there was time
for one last secret
tip-toe on the path,
dancing the euphoria
of outlaws in the rain,
singing in soft voices
thick with brews of fantasy.
~
The fire never caught her skirt
nor blistered her bare feet
when she ran away from orders,
for she knew
the priests were wrong:
no one burns in hell
when lovers meet.
~
And the crow knew too
though his wing
dragged on the ground.
He knew that they
would follow hence
from shadows born in history,
to visions in his silent eye
of farther places,
mended wings
when black would turn to white
and he would fly again.
~
She walks the twilight path
to the sea
and waits the mist
that comes in with the tide,
and in the shadows
her grey cloak
rides night-time like a veil.
~
And the moon will fill
a thousand times over
and bring their orbits
together again.
But now she folds
her body down
on salt-warm sand
to melt her bones
into the earth
to leave this tired plane,
and fly across the cliffs
to Mayberrie.
.
© 1995, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright
This is wonderful. Strong narrative in short imagistic segments.
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Very powerful and persuasive thank you
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Thank you, Thomas and Chacon, for taking the time to read this and comment!
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What an amazing dream brought to life in your trio of poems. The end was both sad and beautiful!
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Thank you, Betty, for your dream…
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Totally gorgeous, especially loved the broken but mended wing of the crow who saw it all. I am sorry this is the end of the series! I am such an incurable “Lady of the Lake” type. I see this was copyrighted in 1995, at a time when I myself was sort of “folding my body down”, enslaved one day, floating the next. Amazing community of spirits!
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I agree, Granbee (and it seems we’re the same age). I’m unable to find your blog again – was there a few days ago but it wouldn’t let me leave a comment. Will try an email in a couple of days when I have a chance. Yes, “community of spirits!”
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Betty, thank you so much for bringing the “unfinished” nature of my gravatar to my attention. It is now fixed and contains http://granbee.wordpress.com as one of my verified sites! So happy you agree about our “community of spirits!”
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Granbee, I’m so glad it’s easy to access your blog now. (Adding you to my blogroll also helped! 🙂 )
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Thank you again to those who took the time to read this. I appreciate your comments very much!!
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Thank you Betty,
This has been a really fascinating experience and I still wonder at it!
Christine
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Christine, I’m hoping a “sequel” will come of it someday… at the time of writing, it made me wonder too, where it was coming from – if there is some real historical reference in there somewhere. Thanks for reading it!
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Just read all three, pretty impressive – perhaps you could write one of those mystical, romantic, heroic novels, or have you already?
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Dennis, thanks so much! No, I haven’t written any novels – and am afraid this was a one-time story. Have never been able to re-capture that “vision”, though now and then the voice of that era still comes through. Must be my Irish blood, and perhaps a past life. (Seriously, the dream it came from was like re-living an event from long ago….)
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