Death of Arthur / sailing to Avalon - Marw Arthur
By ieuancilgwri
- 580 reads
Cold waters on the shale, the murmur or sigh of breaking foam
Behind me, the path from the headland is fired by the dimming light
The wind is rising but the air is warm as I feel its breath on my hands
Nearby a bell rings once, my lord murmurs, he is looking west towards the sun
`Here Cei..` as the brand he gave me
Away I went to nearby Llyn Braichddu and so passed that shining blade into the depths
Forged under the hammer of the Eagles, a blade burnished with the soul of this Island
As the dark waters rose, seeming to sing in grim acceptance – `it has passed, it has passed...`
They had borne my lord away from the field, that deep and bloody vale
On a bier of torches, as the battle faded, the men stared askance and stunned
No movement from him as they lifted the burden following the river
Out from Camlann, to the sea, westward moving grey in the failing light
Who knows the pain that my lord bore from the wounds as they travelled?
Until they came to the edge and set him down on the second day
Cold poultices of wormwood and hollowleek they put to him
Yet only the promise of his journey`s end keeps him - he must pass on
I am alone with him now, as he wished, his glorious eyes speak to me of the pain beyond his body
Betrayal and hurt at the closing of the day, he has spent thus saving us for only a little longer
And in the stillness only the sallow lapping water reminds us of time and what we have come to
As from across the stretch, silently, the boat moves towards us
I hear their singing; before I see six queenly forms, they are speaking of the deep sea; the time beyond time
As they close, I see the panoply within their vessel and it is kingly
They move towards my lord, I step back as they gather him
With measureless grace they pass him from a bed of branches to the cloth of gold
[center]
Those eyes catch me and I hear, finally, `Memory` will not be lost.`
The wind passes over me, they are gone towards a sinking sun but the voices rise
Now only a golden path lingers where my lord has sailed west
Darkness quietly moves across the shoreline as I am tasked of my vigil, relieved of my post
They say he has gone to Caer Sidhe, with a peasant`s hope that he is free of his wounds
And that Myrddin chides him, still, from within the isle of glass
As I have loved and served him all my life, there is no cure for our pain
He has gone and losing him was losing everything
Yet still they say the King is not dead, in the lore of his people, they will diminish but they will not be made to forget
I know that his footprint and hand has been engraved upon the very land as onto our hearts
The Red Dragon will be pushed back, they believe, but yet will it grow stronger
And through God`s care, through my Lord`s memory, we will endure
Ieuan Cilgwri 2008(c)
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