Springsong

The hum of spring

bursts into

joyous song.

 

Gazing upon renewal,

all the old cliches

of eternal hope

march through my mind

like ghostly soldiers.

 

The echoes of the past,

of lost battles, of wars lost,

fade with their footsteps.

 

But the hope

I feel is real.

 

And inner peace

comes forth

as an

opening bud.

Changeling’s Lullaby

There in the nursery

moonlit and blue,

Something is hovering,

covering you.

 

Calmly you’re staring,

for only you see.

Tell me if it’s here for you,

or for me.

 

Softly, you gurgle

and reach out to touch;

then cackle with laughter,

the tickling’s such.

 

Coming to get you,

it makes itself known.

I reach out for you.

My body is thrown.

 

“No one,” I cry,

“takes my baby from me!”

You’re fading, and fading…

I no longer see.

 

I don’t hear a gurgle,

a coo, or a cry.

The dark fae has taken

my sweet child.

Goodbye.

 

Trained as a warrior,

they’ll make you strong,

fighting their battles and singing

their song.

 

War cries and weapons

will conquer your days.

I can’t come to you

for they’ve blocked the ways.

 

But I’ll keep trying to

find you. I will.

Mountain or valley,

and river or hill.

 

And if on the field of battle we meet,

I’ll throw my bloody sword down at your feet,

tell you I love you, embrace you, and die.

Though you brand me ‘enemy’, you’ll wonder why.

 

When truth revealed shakes your soul

to its core:

You have just slaughtered

the woman who bore

Your weight in her belly,

your food in her womb.

 

Carry her then from this world

to her tomb.

 

Cry not, my little one.

It’s not your fault.

Let not your tears taste of

sorrow and salt.

 

Dream of the nursery,

moonlit and blue,

and of the lullaby

I sang to you.