Transcode – The Return To Middle Earth

 

 

     Between this Full Moon and I this night;

A Dragons wing - translucent guided by

A Silent prayer,

     A worried concern of scattered

Fallen trees, no owl accompaniment of

Wisp of air, no call of Pine-cat hunting

Way below, or Deer to ruck beyond

A Winters thaw.

 

     Our Highland Ghost, no more

Cullodens ground rush stare of clash of

Swords and Axe, Sabres - Shields of Men –

     Who dared, for World’s apart

A tear in two where Transcodes privy

A Time stood still;

     World’s apart the backward glance

Be all that’s left of honour now upon

These lands.

 

     The Dragon flies where solemnity

Has a quiet longing hope, for adieu is never

     Fondly spoken well,

Cullodens ghost now sits down to dwell -

     Where ‘what for’ mumbles faded

Bloodied lips, both upon a Scot and English too,-

     ‘Must we only re-enact a Murderous Hell?’

 

          Now homesteads bare no

Bake of Bread, nor soup to warm all

Sparkled eyes, for dullness accepts uncertainty

Like globes of life about to die.

 

     This frown here sits, sorrowed

Like a fallen Kite, or Osprey with a sudden

Rush to be by Young, to be by young and

Ride a Gaelic Curse – sat silent under

Branch of trees to last a night that hopes

Dawn sees,

     A love has broke, a love, has broken.

 

     A wind that brought a guest – a fertile womb

From Southern Cape asks and asks and asks again -

     Why all gifts of passion are only fleeting so,

Why does an ancient jealous spite have trees and hills

And mountainsides – buckle, break and crumble –

Beneath a hate of callous Gods?

 

     Here once in Spring I swore a Bird laughed –

I heard him, and then the brethren kin flew by to say hello,

     But now, a Dragon fears the transcodes return,

Where battle plays and plays and plays again,-

     The Scottish Widow once again, denied.

 

Michael J Waite 3^rd February 2020