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Post by lorna on May 10, 2016 16:52:09 GMT -1
This is a poem I wrote for Gwyn the day after Calan Mai which was when (here in Lancs) he left the landscape. In the past I've been aware of his battle and his 'death'/defeat and retreat to Annwn but it's not something I've confronted directly and been with him at before. This a poetic record of what happened...
Gwyn’s Death and Departure
You say you come from many battles and many deaths. I try not to hold on or shed tears on the edge of summer.
You’ve been doing this for many years. I’m the fearful one.
After death you staunch your wounds, draw your blood back into itself
before your hounds come forever guides into the mists with your horse who carries the dead.
You’ve never been more yourself.
You remind me of the November we touched the moon and tell me not to mourn.
You are long-lived and my summers are limited: hours to be savoured as a bee drinks nectar from a gold cup.
I cast off my grief for my gown is not yet a shroud.
On the motorway bridge where the railings sing like hummingbirds in the gale
I am alive yet your hunt is never far off.
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Post by Heron on May 13, 2016 7:35:51 GMT -1
As I said on your blog, I found this not a little unsettling, as befits a confrontation with a god! It's valuable that we should record such events as they happened. Such engagements are after all what makes it all real.
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Post by mrpasserby on Dec 12, 2018 22:16:47 GMT -1
@ Heron "As I said on your blog, I found this not a little unsettling, as befits a confrontation with a god! It's valuable that we should record such events as they happened. Such engagements are after all what makes it all real."How are you? and yes I am still kicking around with the English genius loci. I missed this gracious comment of yours the last time that I passed by (no pun intended). It has been a sad commentary of my writing skills not to be able to express in words such engagements as you have mentioned. I am still enjoying lorna smithers writings. All the best, mrpasserby
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