We had no words for “metaphor” or “simile”

That night in the hall; the fire’s smoke

And crackle blazed colour into our faces,

The Skald sang ‘Edwr ran after the hart,

As swift as the river runs’, and that was that.

We feasted on its muscles, lights and guts

Ate ourselves full to stupor, then we drank,

Drenching our lips with honey of the kill;

Drew Edwr on the walls, in pigments, ochres, dung,

His legs always striding, and the spear in flight,

Claiming in effigy the meat that sustained us still.

One of the dogs had not come back

Although the Skald included in his song

Brave deeds of chase and quarry done by it.

 

That first poem was a spell,

That led us ever on, creating pictures

On the walls of our minds, like tapestries,

Rich in shadowy red-browns; stick-men

Running, hunting, feasting, and love-lying

With the women.

 

The missing dog was chanted with the rest, sung

As smoke wreathed chunks of venison, hung

High in the woven wattles of the roof;

Whenever we grew hungry, we would chant

‘Edwr chased the hart, swifter than the river!

Gods, bring us more deer!’ – As long as we believed

The poem was also life, the ritual worked.

 

The Skald grew cunning, making a tale

Of how the dog returned; we roared it out

Around the fire in mead; next day, quite unconcerned

It trotted in, wet  through, much thinner, one ear torn;

We cheered it , as it curled round by the hearth!

 

The Skald wove tales of Edwr fighting giants,

Even the Gods themselves; we could not draw these

We had no walls big enough.

We knew now though fine words could fill our bellies;

We’d chant in lofted rhymes for food, and nowadays

The Gods would oblige, always

Edwr would run through the forest, again and again,

His legs always astride, dogs always following

At heel, spear always in mid-flight.

Laughing and quaffing, we traced that drawing

Over and over on the walls of our memory

Toasting, and roasting: the smell of meat

And mead; howling to the Skald’s bare lyre

Whenever we were gathered round the fire

Singing of Edwr and the hart,

And the lay of the lost dog.

 

Isle of Arran, August 2011.