Witch Of Dorovernia
© Surazeus
2018 01 18
I see fallen angels in human skin
map unknown memories of their loss and gain
on fertile landscapes of indifferent world
to eat the sparkling fruit of sun and rain
that energizes motives of our minds
which conjures virtual model of the real.
I stand on the mountain of helpless pain
and shake my fist at the glorious sun,
demanding my right to justice and good,
but the wind does not even laugh at me
as the world continues to spin away
and I wander somewhere in silent woods.
I wept when my mother and father died,
killed by the men with sharp swords in their hands,
but after forty years of wandering lost
and helping villagers fight against kings
I sit alone under the apple tree
and realize that everyone becomes dirt.
How can I hide and heal the aching hurt
that bleeds angry words from my limping heart
when each new day, that the sun rises red,
I push forward through the confusing world
to find food to eat and shelter to wait
till the men with swords find my hiding spot.
I shudder in horror at painful death
each time I remember how laughing man
of death thrust sharp blades of arrogant hate
in hearts of people I love, and they cry
in terrible pain at shock as they die,
then vanish to dust that blows in the wind.
I keep their skulls lined on garden wall
to frighten thieves and slavers who appear
but they laugh and invade heaven I made
and clap chains on hands of people I love
while I hide shivering in shadows of fear
then weep lost in cold indifferent rain.
The Earth keeps on spinning around the sun
and bleak memories of their violent attacks
fade into the wind that blows through the trees
so I wander old and fragile as eggs
to village where children throw mud at me,
frightened by the trauma carved on my face.
Fifty years ago on warm summer night
I was crowned the last harvest fairy queen
and reigned in the ring of stones with sweet songs
till the men with swords invaded our lands
and took everyone away in hard chains
so now I am old as the silent moon.
Why are you frightened of me, I cry out
when they drag me through the village at dawn
and bind me to the pole from broken tree
then shout strange words I cannot understand
as they set me on fire with flames of fear
and the pain burns my mind into the sun.
© Surazeus
2018 01 18
I see fallen angels in human skin
map unknown memories of their loss and gain
on fertile landscapes of indifferent world
to eat the sparkling fruit of sun and rain
that energizes motives of our minds
which conjures virtual model of the real.
I stand on the mountain of helpless pain
and shake my fist at the glorious sun,
demanding my right to justice and good,
but the wind does not even laugh at me
as the world continues to spin away
and I wander somewhere in silent woods.
I wept when my mother and father died,
killed by the men with sharp swords in their hands,
but after forty years of wandering lost
and helping villagers fight against kings
I sit alone under the apple tree
and realize that everyone becomes dirt.
How can I hide and heal the aching hurt
that bleeds angry words from my limping heart
when each new day, that the sun rises red,
I push forward through the confusing world
to find food to eat and shelter to wait
till the men with swords find my hiding spot.
I shudder in horror at painful death
each time I remember how laughing man
of death thrust sharp blades of arrogant hate
in hearts of people I love, and they cry
in terrible pain at shock as they die,
then vanish to dust that blows in the wind.
I keep their skulls lined on garden wall
to frighten thieves and slavers who appear
but they laugh and invade heaven I made
and clap chains on hands of people I love
while I hide shivering in shadows of fear
then weep lost in cold indifferent rain.
The Earth keeps on spinning around the sun
and bleak memories of their violent attacks
fade into the wind that blows through the trees
so I wander old and fragile as eggs
to village where children throw mud at me,
frightened by the trauma carved on my face.
Fifty years ago on warm summer night
I was crowned the last harvest fairy queen
and reigned in the ring of stones with sweet songs
till the men with swords invaded our lands
and took everyone away in hard chains
so now I am old as the silent moon.
Why are you frightened of me, I cry out
when they drag me through the village at dawn
and bind me to the pole from broken tree
then shout strange words I cannot understand
as they set me on fire with flames of fear
and the pain burns my mind into the sun.
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