Wednesday, February 2, 2011

warrior born

I enter as solicitor into the breech, I

shimmy through a spinney of oak and beech, I

smolder I stutter-step hillside-bound, I

worship at a cromlech with reverent sound, aye.


I revel in primeval heresies hailed, I

peel away pretense brandish what’s veiled, I

quest for veracity, from all whom would speak, I

seek rectitude for the shunned and the weak, aye.


I trip down footpaths long over-grown, I

convulse on the altar of rain-etched stone, I

gasp at the lightning in the night-bird sky, I

ken to the eidola of eons wild, aye.


I rove companionless as streams flow past, I

quaff their waters my drought to cast, I

taste aged mosses and sod underfoot, I

mingle with the mysteries of the twilight wood, aye.


I relinquish these boots, this crown, this shame, I

breathe malcontent extrication exclaimed, I

move to recompense my lady, my land, I

make an invocation to all women and men, aye.


I present to the heavens my chest, my face, I

plea for forgiveness of my race, I

burn from the fire and bruise from the stone, I

writhe hands and knees past a gauntlet thrown, aye.


I return to the hearth to the village I adore, I

rush along the promenade a warrior born, I

recite the story to the curious child, I

thrill and fulfill her or render him riled, aye.

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