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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

 

Mound-Alf

Around me earth
above me roots, turf
darkness encircles
and the scent of moist soil,
mould
with a freshness of new life
as seeds stir in soil
waiting rebirth
a fresh spring, a new year

Yet now I turn, to hear the clamour,
of hall bright-beaconed,
laughing and boasting,
feasting with noisy cheer
those who wait with me,
laid in this mound, or come
from where they fell
to join their kin
each as in life
fair women and proud
bearing goblet or horn
to the weaponed men

who yet fall silent
to the harp strings as I play

I sing to them of heroes
Sigurdh
Helgi
Somerled
songs they know well
The old tales are still best
I know each song shall end
to noisy acclamation
and fierce bragging
that they will rival all those dead

chatter, chatter chatter
how often have these words been said?

And now I turn, to hear the ringing
hammer on anvil
Fires glow in the encircling darkness
bellows-blown;
deep in the earth
a dwarf-smith forges gold

And turn again

Around me, earth,
above me, roots, turf,
before me, light
clear light of day where once was wall
Here I stand in the entrance
Seeing and unseen, I gaze
over plain, bush and road
to where white-caps tip the waves
The land is changed from when I lived before.

On the road they pass,
singing and talking
a child skips, clasping a parent's hand,
her face bright, fair and proud
as before.
I know them all, blithe children,
lovers, mothers
warriors, weavers
poets or partisans
I knew them when they lived
or waited in the mound
Proud or boastful, now I hear them clearly,
promising hope, a world of brightness,
a world of promises
chatter, chatter, chatter
This time, will they be true?

Around me earth
above me roots, turf
darkness encircles
and the scent of moist soil,
mould
with a freshness of new life
as seeds stir in soil
waiting rebirth
in spring of a new year

And here is silence

© 1997 Jenny Blain 

Wyrdswell - Jenny Blain's Personal Page


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