Song of the Lonely Maiden

D: Really A?

A: Best. Song. Ever.

(not sure what assasin’s creed has to do with this, but it was the best version… go with it!)

D: You know just how to turn my anguish into a joke. I’m not ready for this A.

A: What’s the matter, D? It’s just a poem. And not the easiest poem that’s ever crawled its way out of my brain.

D: If that’s how it felt for you, imagine what it’s doing to me, woman.

A: I know it needs work, D but it’s for your book – you could try to be nice.

D: Nice? A! This isn’t about you or your questionable prose – this is about me!

A: (eye roll) Big surprise there.

D: I mean, this is about Mairead and me. I think she’s still pissed.

A: Do you blame her? I mean, centuries of waiting, D.

D: I’m not the one who went and got married.

A: She thought you were dead.

D: Sure, that’s what she says.

A: D! God I am so glad I have time before I have to write your story with her.

D: Why’s that –

A: Because if it were up to me now, she’d slap you across the face and empty a tankard of mead on your head.

D: Oh, I think she did that . . . of course, it was after I—

A: I don’t want to know. I really really don’t want to know.

D: Suit yourself.

Mairead’s Song

In whispers, you come to me.

Faceless phantom.

Without words you beg me,

Wait.

I’ve loved you forever,

And my heart you kept close to your own.

Hands we did clasp, and promises make.

But war and deceit reached out to claim you,

Others had claws that did rend your heart.

Soul gift with magic, you belonged to Another

And with brothers in arms, you did march.

Storms on the horizon scream out in anguish

Mourning the sons who lay dead on the plain

Ravens whispered you lay among them,

Torn and bloody upon the plain.

A choice I made then,

To save us all.

My hand for his army.

Bring them home my only command.

Not dead, yet not alive

Only lost and sore and beaten

Your name on the wind does haunt my waking hours

Damning my days

For misguided honor.

To other lands you wandered

With destiny to fulfill –

The maker of kings,

Who would wake Those Who Sleep,

You fight and die and live again.

Peddlers and bards

Each with a tale to tell

Do sing so sweet with tales of glory.

They do not know they speak of you –

They cannot hear you call my name –

But I know and I hear you truly,

I hear you tell me,

Wait.

Beyond me, away,

So far from me you roam.

Yet I utter words I know you’ll hear

And I reach for you, calling,

I wait.

Why all the poetry? A’s on a mission to complete a compendium of source material for “The Ballad of Dubhshith and Mairead” Read about it – and “The Warrior’s Lament,” the first in the poetry series – here.

0 thoughts on “Song of the Lonely Maiden

    • Thank you – I actually started writing it for that – as the follow up to Warrior’s lament. I wrote it at the same time, but it just would not gel – it’s still not flowing the way I’d like it to, but it’s better.

  1. What a great poem, Katie! Mairead seems too good for D, but then it was a different time and D was perhaps a little easier to get along with? I suspect D’s heart is still broken and he covers his pain with banter. I hope we hear more about Mairead 🙂

    • D was, once upon a time, much much (much) easier to get along with. (so long as your name isn’t Katie Sullivan). Still full of himself, but not subject to my head! 😉 So, you’re probably right, poor heartbroken b*****d. I adore Mairead at the moment – despite her angst here, she’s a very cool lady!

  2. Holy crap… “Without words you beg me” Man, you don’t know how this phrase touched my heart, Katie! It’s a killer. It’s like saying, “I wish I can talk to you. I wish I can tell you how much I love you. I wish you know how much I’ve suffered without you. Come back to me. Come back to me.” That’s how powerful those words meant! Great, great writing!

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