from Wanting To Be In The Old Tongue – by pd lyons

 

 

MAEVE’S LAMENT

~ 

Bound by chains of lowland vines,

Nourished only by the rain.

The red meat of my heart

Now chips and shards of stone

That even ravens cannot find.

~

I am most subtle now,

Unable to touch or to be touched,

Only smoky tendrils nimbly wrapped

Upon the memories of men;

A formless thing perceived by them

Only in their sleeping dreams.

~

Kept alive by hunger.

Eager to be embraced with flesh

And upon the bones of war – like men,

Answer with firm metal once again

The faithful ravens call.

~

Out of the west

Out of the west

Where is the storm that brings me breath

To let these lips of moss reveal

That charm which causes me to heal –

~

For when those birds recall my name,

Then will I be whole again.

_—————————————————————————————————————————————

from Wanting To Be In The Old Tongue – by pd lyons

Copyright © 2011 PD Lyons

All rights reserved.

:

ISBN-13: 978-1466272996

ISBN-10: 1466272996

pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk