The Great Ones

Mural by George Southwell, 1935


The Great Ones


I had a premonition
Of this forest,
That the great trees
Were leaving us,
Slipping past in pieces
On the long trek
Through the gate
Of tomorrow's tomorrow,

I saw the jaws
Of desolation open.
Through its mouth
A ship was sailing
Leaving our seasons
In darkness.

Gaunt gatherer,
There is never time enough.
Loose the fire of your arrows
While the light of our love
Leans like an immigrant
Crossing the great water.
Tentative, with splintering gestures,
The great ones drop away from us.

Fasten missile toe
To this felled oak,
Make fast the ivy
To shroud its prow,
Fill the empty hold
With boughs of myrtle.
Our heritage is leaving us.
The great ones are leaving us.
Tentative, with splintering
Gestures, they slip across
The great water.


Scott Malby

Posted over on Ygdrasil Journal