Page: Profile: Poetry
||Total Views: 10,232,872
VxPoem ID: 37786
Posted: February 24th. 2010 5:19:37 PM
Carried by the Wind
Age Group: Adult
When I was a young girl oft did I dance between the lands of Tir Na mBeo and that of Mag Mel
Lush was the land and eager were her people to live a life of brotherhood and love
Sweet was the smell of bellflowers in the fields carried by the summer wind
But yet for some reason I could not help but feel the unseasonably strange chill.
Days past, and I pushed the feeling away from my mind,
My sister and I played in the fields making crowns of wild flowers for her flaxen hair.
Laughing and playing we thought those days would never end,
The wind carried it’s warning to me again.
We were so young then, to young to know,
I could see it in the eyes of my father, for my uncle had not returned from the other village,
He should have already returned from trading, He should be here by now.
I remember that night the wind blew so fiercely I thought our home would blow down.
Leave me be angry wind! Let me to my play!
I was to young to know, to young to understand, please forgive me everyone!
My guilt carried with me to the very end,
I was the first to see them coming, I was the first to feel the swift hand of their Gods.
We were in the fields laughing and playing that day,
Picking flowers to put in my sisters flaxen hair,
I saw a horse in the coming from the east,
I knew it was him, uncle had returned!
I ran as fast as I could to greet him, I ran as fast as my legs would let me
Uncle! Uncle! We have waited so long!
I stopped cold in my tracks.
Beyond the rolling hills waves of horses came thundering across the plain.
For a moment the breath had left my lungs, fear had championed my soul.
At that moment I did what I had been warned to do so many times,
I ran, I ran for all I was worth, I picked up my sister in the wake,
I fled swift as the wind.
All my tears, for all my efforts I was far too late.
I let out a fierce scream that rang through the mountains,
A call of our people to arms, and they did indeed come armed.
All for naught, all for naught.
The wind betrayed me… or perhaps it was I who betrayed the wind.
The shot was true and went tearing through my back,
Past the blinding terror and the crushing pain,
I threw my dear sister, Siobhan to safety.
Safe… I prayed… keep her safe.
The men flew past me as if I was a blade of grass,
Each shot down by the gale force of their spears, there arrows.
Murder… they were murdering my people.
I had no tears left to cry, for my eyes had filled with blood.
Still I could see they set fire to my village. Still I watched them kill all of my people.
I could see them drag Siobhan from her hiding place after she let out a cry for our dead mother.
At that moment as they dragged her away I wished I too could cry but there was no air in my lungs.
I could see her crown of flowers lying next to me as I died.
I wished I could have cursed our enemy, who ever they were, with their horse tailed helmets,
I still remember how the wind blew through the hairs.
I wish I could have cursed them, but only I was to blame.
I failed you
And the gods only knew the spear they planted in my chest was nothing compared to the guilt.
For I alone was warned, and I should have warned them all.
They all died that day, slain by conquerors from another world.
The gods blessed me, again I could finally cried.
I wish I could be noble and say I cried for my people, but no lie will cross my lips.
I bellowed out tears for myself.
Tears so loud they crossed to the world of the living.
In the shadows I saw a great mare full of awe and splendor.
I felt I should follow and so I did.
She took me to a place I did not expect.
In the land of Mag Mell there stood my people.
Returned to their former likeness no longer covered in blood and gore
Pointing fingers, and spiting at my uncle.
“It was not your blame to have, “ spake the Mare, “but t’was he who betrayed your people.”
Once again Siobhan and I did play in the fields,
Although it was not quite the same we were happy.
I could still smell mother’s cooking carried by the gentle breeze
I could still hear father whistling as he formed horse shoes in the oven.
The lady Epona placed a crown of apple blossoms on my head,
And blessed me with a kiss upon my fore head,
Although I was to young to know, to young to understand,
She had set me free, free as the wind.
Author's Notes: This was a composition I created to be told in a bardic fashion. It's a bit personal and still makes me shed a tear. I have a musical piece for it too but I don't have any music software so forgive me lol and enjoy! (I hope) :D
Author's Location: Asheville, North Carolina
More Poems: Aoide has posted 3 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Aoide - Click HERE
Contact Me Via Email...
Email Invites Note: Yes! I have opted to receive invites to Pagan events, groups, and commercial sales
Disclaimer: The Witches' Voice inc does not verify the accuracy of the details stated in this listing, nor do we vouch for the value of the goods or services presented here... As with all contacts and financial dealings in cyberspace, we encourage you to use caution and wisdom in your dealings with strangers.
Political Statements: Any and all personal political opinions expressed in the public listing sections (including, but not restricted to, personals, events, groups, shops, Wren's Nest, etc.) are solely those of the author(s) and do not reflect the opinion of The Witches' Voice, Inc. TWV is a non-profit, non-partisan educational organization.
State/Country flags created by 3dflags.com and are used with permission
Web Site Content (including: text - graphics - html - look & feel)
Copyright 1997-2014 The Witches' Voice Inc. All rights reserved
Note: Authors & Artists retain the copyright for their work(s) on this website.
Unauthorized reproduction without prior permission is a violation of copyright laws.
Website structure, evolution and php coding by Fritz Jung on a Macintosh G5.
Any and all personal political opinions expressed in the public listing sections (including, but not restricted to, personals, events, groups, shops, Wrenâ€™s Nest, etc.) are solely those of the author(s) and do not reflect the opinion of The Witchesâ€™ Voice, Inc. TWV is a nonprofit, nonpartisan educational organization.
Sponsorship: Visit the Witches' Voice Sponsor Page for info on how you
can help support this Community Resource. Donations ARE Tax Deductible.
The Witches' Voice carries a 501(c)(3) certificate and a Federal Tax ID.
Mail Us: The Witches' Voice Inc., P.O. Box 341018, Tampa, Florida 33694-1018 U.S.A.